Number Twelve
by Lucky Th13rteen
Summary: Life has taken on a new form of normal following the Second War. While adjusting to the new changes that seem to happen daily, Ginny must figure out if what she has always wanted, is what she really wants. Or if there are bigger changes coming to her life beyond new family members and new teammates. D/G, H/G RATED M
1. Authors Note

**Author's Note**

Some things to remember when reading this story -

1\. This story takes place in the early 2000's, at least two and half years after the end of the Second War

2\. Please take note of the dates at the top of each chapter. There will be some small jumps in time and recognizing the different days or months noted will help to ease any confusion

3\. This story will be as canon as possible. That being said, since it takes place after the original seven books have ended, I find myself with some leeway within the time frame of the major events, i.e. marriages, jobs, and children, that have been pinpointed for their futures, and what could have happened in those in between years

4\. Some of the first chapters will throw you for a loop - fair warning

5\. Timing is everything and all characters will make their grand appearances before long

6\. There will be adult themes, language, situations, and occurrences. Any chapters that might be thought of as NSFW will be labeled as such at the beginning of said chapter

Lastly but certainly not leastly - I do not own anything related to Harry Potter. All people, places, things, spells and charms, animals and magical beings belong to JK Rowling.


	2. A Real Beginning

**1 January 2001, 2:13 am**

Magical is most certainly a word destined to describe the life of Ginny Weasley.

Beyond the obvious reasoning of her Wizarding genes, the youngest Weasley seemed to have luck in her blood. The Chamber of Secrets notwithstanding, Ginny usually found a way around the stickiest of situations with little trouble.

It may have been the first time she had been lost, but it was certainly not the last.

The Second War made every witch and wizard in Britain feel adrift and Ginny, longing for stability, had freely returned to Hogwarts to finish out her seventh year. Despite the daily tears and the unsurprising dramatic shift in how Headmistress McGonagall allowed the classes and students to remain lax, the old stone castle still felt like her second home. At the end of her final week at Hogwarts, Ginny wept for many reasons but mostly for the marked ending of her childhood. No one would have guessed that the same smiling and laughing teenagers on the front lawn were some of the same who had helped to defeat Voldemort one year prior, but Ginny knew better, and she knew they would all be stronger because of it.

Seven years at Hogwarts had come and gone and the last Weasley had ridden in the tiny wooden boat back across the lake, leaving her school days and their horrors behind.

Her own grin had spilt her freckled face later when the throngs of people parted in the crowded Hogsmeade and nearly a dozen eager gingers had burst forward, each one with tears in their eyes and open arms reaching for her. But Ginny only saw one person.

Harry.

Heart leaping in her chest, Ginny admired the slight scruff of hair underneath his jaw and the slight tan gleaned from a week of rest, relaxation, and almost maximum effort to continue to exercise. Harry Potter had filled out in the many months since he was finally allowed to be someone other than the Chosen One and she wanted to say aloud, with absolute conviction, that he was quite the roguish looking wizard now.

But he had not left room for any of her rakish remarks or comments. Instead, Harry had walked straight up to Ginny, slid one hand around her waist and the other around the back of her neck, and - hundreds of eyes on them be damned - he had kissed her.

She had felt it in every cell of her body - felt it where his touch seared an invisible imprint into her skin, his lips fire on her mouth. And every one of those cells was singing joyously with the love and life that Ginny knew she would so willingly give to Harry if he would let her.

The world had come back to her too quickly and she had felt her cheeks heat - most likely from the sun she had quickly thought - as her lips stretched wide to their full extent. A chorus of oohhs and awwws, along with a few catcalls, had begun and Ginny had to watch Harry's lips move to hear what he was saying.

"I love you."

It was the first time he had told her that.

Momentarily stunned silent, Ginny smiled wider still and returned the sentiment wholeheartedly. "I love you too."

Harry had pulled her to him tightly, her face wet with fresh, happy tears and pressed into the curve of his neck, and Ginny had known that everything would be alright again.

Magical, she had thought, today is a truly magical day.

But if the elation of graduating school, and having the man of your dreams finally tell you he loves you, felt that fantastic - then Ginny couldn't find the words for how she was feeling at that very moment, years later. She could scarcely find the words to describe how her New Years Eve had taken such a turn, let alone how her emotions were coping with all of this new information.

The naked man next to her rolled completely onto his side and the creamy, soft sheet fell lower against the soft, dark hairs on his abdomen. Harry deftly adjusted the black, wire frame glasses on his nose and laid a slightly calloused hand on her sheet glad thigh. Ginny held his emerald gaze and grinned wide. Her bare breasts swayed softly and she quickly leaned forward to kiss his lips.

"Are you quite happy?" Harry asked cheekily.

"Quite," Ginny replied smartly with a smirk.

"Good," was his one word reply before he smoothly grabbed her naked waist and yanked her towards him, her legs sliding awkwardly beneath her as she fell forward and laughed perfectly.

"You certainly blew any surprise I could ever plan for you right out of the water," Ginny stated as she too rolled onto her side and their noses lightly touched.

Harry blinked and cast his gaze down to her lips, a pink flush spotting his slightly tanned cheeks. "I tried my best, love, but I can't claim all of the credit."

He met her chocolate eyes and smiled as an auburn eyebrow arched and one corner of her mouth twitched upward in a smirk.

"No?" Ginny asked with mock incredulity, sarcasm dripping from her words. "But I'm most certain that Ron was the one to have given you such a romantic idea. "

Harry barked a short laugh, his right arm resting on the curve of her naked torso as a freckled hand flitted to run through his messy black locks.

"Actually, it was Hermione who -" he began.

Ginny rolled her eyes and scoffed with slight irritation. It was annoying enough that the bushy haired witch still intruded on Harry's life, and by extension hers, whenever she pleased, but Ginny almost couldn't stand that Hermione would take it upon herself to dictate Harry's love life too. Or the fact that he would probably allow her to.

"Gin -" he started once more, needing to explain himself all over again. "'Mione didn't just - plan it out and tell me where to go and when." Harry looked at her still arched eyebrow and placed a hand on her ass to squeeze gently, bringing forth the small sigh he expected. "When it opened a few months back, she dragged Ron and I there, saying it was for some random article she was writing during that short stint with the Prophet - the story about Muggle ingenuity and their technological advances."

Again Ginny rolled her eyes, but allowed the slight tension to leave her muscles, Harry's gaze silently pleading with her to not remain transfixed on the tiny detail.

"She kept going on about how romantic it was - probably trying to give a hint to Ron," Harry explained, another grin spreading his lips as he poked fun at his best friend.

"Fat chance of that," Ginny smirked and leaned in again to press a kiss to his mouth. "However, it came about, you most definitely put yourself in the running for wizard of the year, Mr. Potter."

"It was pretty clever, wasn't it?"

Harry's grin stretched further and Ginny rolled her eyes, humor evident in her gaze.

"Quite so," she responded poshly.

Laughter split the darkness of the early morning and the happy couple was quick to return to their naked, breathtaking activities. A scant few fireworks sounded in the distance and though the bedroom window was still in need of cleaning and dust made the brief images blurry, Ginny was quick to return to the recent memories of the night as her eyes slid shut blissfully and Harry took his place atop her.

 _As was every New Years Eve, London was blistering cold and covered in snow. But that did not stop the holiday activities of so many witches, wizards, and Muggles as they hurried to find their appropriate mode of transportation to their desired destinations._

 _Ginny didn't mind the cold - on the contrary, she was ready to tell the next person who complained about the weather that they should try flying around a Quidditch pitch in this weather - now that was cold. But no one else deigned to relay their animosity to her and she took the final left turn onto Grimmauld Place as an icy wind pulled several stray pieces of scarlet hair out of the collar of her long, wool coat. Hands tucked into the warmth of deep pockets, she embraced the frigid weather on her bare face and set her sights upon her destination._

 _Or rather, where her destination would be if it were visible to the naked eye._

 _Number 12 Grimmauld Place did not appear to have been constructed between Numbers 11 and 13, but knowing better, Ginny kept walking, turned the sharp corner around the open rusty, iron gate and darted up the short set of cracked stairs. If she had blinked she would have missed it, but her eyes remained open and the enormous sound of stone grinding on stone alerted her to the magical appearance of Number 12._

 _Nerves suddenly racking her body, Ginny hesitated momentarily before raising a folded hand to the door and rapping lightly with the serpent knocker. Her wand slid into her grasp inside the occupied coat pocket and she had the fleeting thought to Disapparate back home and wait for Harry there. Footsteps grew louder as she worried over how private her reunion with Harry was going to be with so many close friends nearby, but the sliding of metal locks on the other side of the door told her her time was up._

 _Any bit of worry she had disappeared the moment the warm air rushed through the open door and Luna Lovegood smiled serenely back at her._

 _"Happy New Year, Ginny," the blonde haired witch greeted her calmly, the giant relaxed smile on her pale face the only indication of her excitement at seeing her closest friend again._

 _"Oh Luna!" Ginny exclaimed loudly and dashed forward to throw her arms around the other woman's neck. "Happy New Year!"_

 _The old troll leg umbrella stand by the front door had been replaced the previous year with a lone branch from the Womping Willow, crafted to resemble a suitable coat rack, and Ginny carelessly threw her charcoal wool coat on an empty peg as Luna shut the door behind them and reattached all seven locks. She instinctively listened for the tell-tale screaming of Walburga Black from her portrait on the first landing, but any complaints from the dead witch were still muted by the Permanent Sticking Charm Harry had finally placed on the curtain covering the rotten excuse for decoration._

 _The old house looked much the same as when she had been there last, only about nine weeks ago around Halloween when she had squeezed in a trip home between Quidditch games. The carpet was still thin and the dust so thick at the baseboards that you could no longer notice that there were wooden floors beneath the once ornate runners. But the large undertaking of removing the peeling wallpaper had been finished since she had visited last, and Ginny was impressed with the rich dark chocolate Harry had chosen to paint the walls instead. With the ancient wallpaper went the dusty outlines of portraits past and in their place was the most noticeable change to Number 12 upon entering. Frames of all shapes and sizes had been hung perfectly, some of their contents moving, some of them frozen for that brief capture of a moment. Images from their time at Hogwarts filled a good handful of the frames, a stained Gryffindor Quidditch robe hung inside a glass case with a gold placard on the front, and a very realistic, but nonmoving, portrait of Sirius all hung on the wide expanse of the wall running the length of the house. They looked a bit out of place above the threadbare carpet but she knew that would change soon too._

 _Ginny noticed herself in a few of the frames she glanced at quickly and she made a mental note to look at every one of them before she left for Germany in two days time. Luna was openly staring at her but Ginny didn't find it unusual and rushed forward with a burst of excitement to give her friend another hug._

 _"How are you? How is Rolf? Broken down his barriers yet?" A quick waggle of her eyebrows accompanied a flashing smirk. "Did you bring him with you? Where is everyone? Filling their mouths with treats and alcohol already?" Ginny rattled off without taking a breath. "Have you seen Harry? Has he come down yet?" She continued, sparing a glance towards the top of the stairs covered in semi darkness._

 _"It's lovely to see you, Ginny," Luna said dreamily and she turned to walk towards the kitchen without any preamble, as if it was she and not Ginny who had lived there for over a year. "Everyone has been congregating downstairs, though I think George talked Ron into letting off some fireworks a bit early in the backyard." Luna continued walking leisurely and Ginny realized with a snicker that her cooky friend had not changed a bit, if the sweeping periwinkle robes with dancing Thestrals were any indication at least. "Harry was downstairs too, he seemed somewhat nervous but I would be too if I had a Chameleon Ghoul living in my house. Or maybe the Wrackspurts are coming around again."_

 _Luna shrugged noncommittally and flicked her wand to make the gas lamps burn brighter, erasing the shadows that lingered on the stairs and illuminating the new paint that extended up the walls to the upper floors._

 _"Did you bring Rolf with you?" Ginny prodded again, a mischievous grin in place. Luna waited to say anything, and instead paused in the doorway to the large dining room to turn up those lamps too before she nodded to herself and stowed her wand away._

 _"Of course not," Luna said blankly turning back to look at the other witch. "I have only met the wizard twice."_

 _Ginny did not miss the way she measured the slowness of her speech to match her usual casual way with words, nor did she mistake the flush on her cheeks or slight smile for something else._

 _"Yea you oughta get to know him better before you bring him around this lot," Ginny laughed, clearly picturing some poor bloke being figuratively pounced on in the lions den of Weasleys._

 _"Why? What's wrong with us?" A voice asked from above, the words getting louder as footsteps moved down the stairs. "Don't you think we'd be on our best behavior for guests?"_

 _The air sucked out of her lungs while her stomach seemed to drop out completely before rushing back up with a momentary lapse of dizziness. Every centimeter of her skin tingled with awareness and she felt the weight of the motion as her eyes traveled up the stairs and her feet automatically stopped moving. Time slowed until the one second felt like a whole minute. Ginny's gaze moved over clean black, leather boots, up a pair of dark denim clad legs and past the crisp white shirt tucked in neatly, skating over the open collar and the slight bit of dark chest hair -_

 _Harry._

 _It was as if she was seeing him for the first time._

 _It may have only been two weeks but Ginny swore she fell in love with him again as she met his green gaze and stilled completely. He smiled hesitantly for a moment then grinned full out as he continued down the stairs._

 _"Well I guess he wasn't in the kitchen anymore," Luna said, breaking the silence. "I'll go see how everyone is coming along with the festivities," she finished and noiselessly went down the stone steps to the basement where laughter and voices floated up freely._

 _Ginny felt as if she didn't know what to do until Harry at last stood before her and his scent wafted over her. Everything came back into focus, her heart picking up its natural pace, and she felt tears well up in her eyes as her face split with an enormous grin._

 _"Hey," Harry said lamely._

 _She laughed again and easily the tension was broken as Ginny placed both hands on either side of his neck and pulled him in close. "Hey," she whispered throatily and pressed her mouth against his, his hands coming to rest on the small of her back until their hips were pressed together too._

 _"I've missed you so much," Harry mumbled against the warmth of her neck several minutes later. "You don't know how much I've wanted this after a long day."_

 _Allowing the salty tears to leak out, Ginny giggled to cover the wobbly sigh that threatened to destroy the image of strength she portrayed despite the sadness that accompanied her when they were parted._

 _"I think I have a pretty good idea. You can't even imagine how badly my back is in need of your hands," she stated without any hint of an underlying insinuation, but the wiggling of an eyebrow brought the color to his cheeks anyways._

 _"_ Your _back?" Harry asked incredulously with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, leaning back slightly to give her face a once over. "It's_ my _back that needs the endless knots worked out - you would think Director Robards forgot what it's like the first few months after Training is finished."_

 _"Aww," Ginny cooed with near perfect false sympathy. "Does the unbreakable Harry Potter want his Auror job to be a little bit easier?"_

 _Harry scoffed playfully. "As if being an international Quidditch super star is the most difficult profession in the world."_

 _"Hey!" Ginny admonished lightly. "I'll have you know that the team isn't called the Harpies because the witches are all pleasant people to be around. Especially Gwenog - even if we were number one in the league, I don't think she would be happy with the team."_

 _"I'll take flying laps over chasing a half naked and wholly drunk wizard through the Muggle portion of Canary Wharf any day," Harry countered as equally wide grins split their overly joyous faces._

 _She made an odd noise that was halfway between an excited yelp and a throaty laugh, and laced her fingers together behind his dark head. "But Auror Potter - you can chase me around naked anytime."_

 _It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes with fake exasperation but one hand squeezed the plumpness of her ass all the same and once more they laughed in sync._

 _"Only if you're naked too, love," he stated with a wink and displayed his Seeker fast reflexes to press a wet kiss just below her ear before Ginny could raise a hand to lightly smack him._

 _"Oh I think that can be arranged, Mister Auror sir."_

 _"Though not tonight, Gin," Harry stated with a lopsided grin, clearly already picturing her naked form. "I thought we could stay here for the night instead of going home - Merlin knows I've seen enough splinched wizards to last a lifetime."_

 _"Are you saying that you're going to get me too drunk to travel safely - that doesn't sound very gentlemanly," Ginny questioned cheekily, her gaze taking on a hooded look as the corners of her pink lips twisted into a knowing smirk._

 _"Quite the opposite - I think you're the one who will outdrink us all and have me on the floor before midnight even rolls around."_

 _Harry basked in the melody of her tinkling laughter and wondered how he could possibly love anyone more than he did the youngest Weasley in that moment._

 _"I'd better get you started then if I want to take advantage of you later," Ginny continued roguishly before she tilted her mouth against his and kissed him with only a sliver of the pent up passion from the last couple of weeks._

 _"Come on then," Harry began, stepping out of her embrace moments later and twining their fingers together, pulling her away from the stairs and towards the darkened doorway down to the kitchen. "Better let the natives know we haven't run off on them before they get restless and come find us. I hear George has a new creation he wants to test out and I'm not looking to give him an excuse to make us unknowing participants."_

 _"No, we had best not," Ginny agreed truthfully and happily let him lead her in the direction of food, liquor, and what was sure to be a fantastic holiday night._

 _The hands on the clock moved closer to midnight much faster than she had anticipated but Ginny was unsurprised after it became apparent that George really was going to use the evening as an attempt to get everyone to try out his latest concoction, an unapologetic Angelina shaking her head ruefully with every no he received. Ron and Hermione spent a sizeable portion of the night bickering good-naturedly and Ginny had to admit that the pair were suited for each other in every way possible. Luna flitted around the kitchen happily, quick to point out to anyone who would listen that she suspected fairies would love to make a home in the new bubbles lit from within on the ceiling. Neville Longbottom kept stealing blushing glances at his date, the demure and lovely Hannah Abbott, as she chatted animatedly with Fleur in partial French. Bill held court near his wife, eagerly telling Charlie, Harry, and Angelina's brother, Richard, about his recent trip to Egypt to assist with the latest tomb uncovered after centuries hidden in the sands._

 _Ginny laughed heartily along with everyone else when Lee Jordan accidentally popped a Canary Cream into his mouth and his dreadlocks quickly turned into bright yellow feathers. The alcohol probably made the wizard a tad more frightened than he ought to be but it was Luna's reaction - a thoughtful question if the feathers would be worth any money - that had them clutching their sides with laughter and Lee Jordan embracing the brief clucking for their amusement._

 _It was in that moment, as with so many in the last three and a half years and with many more in the decades to come, that Ginny thought about how far they had all come, and how much they had lost. It was a sobering thought and she turned away from the merriment as a tear came to her eye at the notion that Fred should be right there with George, comically harassing Lee about not being careful what he ate around him._

 _A hand was lightly placed on the small of her back and she turned around to find Harry looking at her with concern and anxiousness._

 _"You alright?" He asked in a low tone, his body angled to keep anyone from directly seeing her face._

 _"Yea, yea," Ginny responded hastily with a smile plastered on. "Just thinking about how fast time flies."_

 _There was a commotion of chairs scraping on the stone floor and someone opened the ice chest to pull out several bottles of champagne. Her gaze flickered back to Harry and she watched as he fiddled with a cuff link on one wrist._

 _"Everyone is making their way to the backyard," Harry explained, his eyes darting everywhere as if to assure himself she was fine. "George is going to set up on the roof to let off the fireworks and Hermione has laid out blankets for everyone to watch them."_

 _"That sounds lovely," Ginny commented and the last of her sadness vanished as she saw that it was indeed only ten minutes from midnight, and the start of a new year. "Let me just grab my coat and we'll go out there."_

 _The outside noises grew clearer as they ascended the stairs from the kitchen and through the crack of the open door the pop of a champagne cork preceded a round of enormous giggling from their large group of friends. Hermione loudly told Charlie that her glass was more than full enough, Ron shushed her with an even louder slurring of pacifying words, and Fleur shrieked happily, the blonde witch quickly drunk this being her first night out since giving birth several months ago._

 _"If Charlie is the one pouring the champagne, they're definitely going to run out before we get outside," Ginny groped for Harry's hand and sprinted towards the coat rack as someone yelled from the backyard that they were going to miss the big light show. "C'mon Harry!"_

 _When he gave resistance, she glanced back and felt slightly foolish to have not noticed the unopened, frosty bottle of bubbly in his other hand. Harry smiled proudly and used her twisting momentum to pull her back to him._

 _"You don't need to get your coat," he told her. "I have somewhere better for us to enjoy the fireworks."_

 _Immediately curious and excited in equal measure, Ginny cocked her head to the side and grinned widely._

 _"Trying to ring in the new year with a bang, are we?" She teased._

 _Harry shook his head of messy black hair and returned her grin confidently, an easiness falling over him as he seemed to relax into the actuality of his plan coming to life._

 _"Always insatiable," he replied in turn, but squeezed her hand with the reassurance that sexy time would be had. "C'mon," he said to her now, and pulled her in the direction of the stairs._

 _Hastily they nearly ran up the staircase, rounded the corner, and continued up the next flight to the third floor. Harry turned off to the left when they reached the landing and Ginny could see a faint light coming through the crack underneath the door of the master bedroom. Eyebrows raised, but unseen in the darkened hallway, she followed him eagerly as he pushed open the door and came to a quick stop._

 _Everything had been cleared out of the cavernous room, the moldy carpet had been ripped up, and the windows were sharp after a thorough checking. Through the glass Ginny could see snow faintly falling outside. Harry fumbled with the metal foil but quickly uncoiled the wiring and was yanking on the cork when she turned to face him fully._

 _"Hand me that glass," he asked as the cork gave a loud pop! and flew off the top of the bottle._

 _Ginny looked to where he indicated and gave little thought to the single champagne flute she picked up off the window sile. Holding it out for him, Harry placed his hand on top of hers and began pouring. The golden liquid had barely splashed in the glass when Ginny felt a familiar tug behind her belly button and everything fell away._

 _Her stomach dropped in terror and her eyes bulged but Harry was completely unconcerned with the sudden Portkey. He had scarcely smiled at her alarmed expression before the transportation spell ended and they were brought back down to a metal ground in seconds._

 _"What the fuck -" Ginny started as she gained her balance and righted herself, her hand coming off of the champagne glass without thought of its contents spilling._

 _It was of no importance though, because Harry seemed to expect her reaction and held onto the glass tightly, continuing to pour until it was near full. Completely nonplussed, he spun on his heel to retrieve a second glass that was sitting premeditatedly on the edge of a metal bench._

 _Ginny was left speechless, unable to find words for the breathtaking sight she was looking at. They were in a glass pod overlooking the big, bright mass of London, affording her a panoramic view of the whole city that she took in while turning in place slowly._

 _"Harry -" she said after a stunned moment. "What just happened? What are we doing here?"_

 _He didn't appear nervous but Ginny immediately noticed that his hands were shaking. Harry realized it too because he held one behind his back and the other gestured towards the generous view. Down below, Muggles lined the streets nearest the river and huddled in drunken masses as they waited for Big Ben to strike midnight. The well lit, enormous clock stood starkly against the inky night sky, it's hands so very close to laying on top of each other. The dark waters of the River Thames snaked through the lively city, calm and clearly reflective as if ready to showcase the impending light display above._

 _"We're in the topmost pod on the London Eye," Harry said evenly but the confused look on Ginny's face caused him to grin eagerly and explain further - "The Muggle wheel? I wanted to give you a breathtaking view for the fireworks," he added, attempting to sound nonchalant and pausing long enough that he quickly, but more sincerely, added, "Because you are so breathtaking every day."_

 _"Oh Harry!" Ginny squeaked with a rush of emotion. Her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest - she wanted to laugh and cry and kiss him all over at the same time. "This is absolutely wonderful! I never would have imagined -"_

 _But she broke off, because in the moment she stole to glance back at Big Ben, as the thousands of people outside began yelling louder as the numbers they were shouting grew smaller, as the city seemed to swell with an unnamed largeness - Harry got down on one knee in front of her._

 _"Ginny -" he spoke heavily. "I can't imagine my life without you. You are the love of my life. With everything I am seeing now as an Auror - with everything that happened at Hogwarts - I couldn't let another day go by without asking you -"_

 _"TEN!" The crowd shouted outside and a small black jewelry box creaked open in Harry's hand._

 _Ginny's vision focused and blurred, all light seeming to reflect off the large emerald cut diamond gleaming against the black velvet. Her body felt like she was swaying and her stomach threatened to lurch back up as she met Harry's eager gaze after a long moment._

 _"Ginny - will you marry me?"_

 _"SIX!"_

 _Her heart skipped several beats. This moment didn't feel real - in the way that this was too perfect to be happening to her and Ginny briefly thought she might have had too much to drink._

 _"FIVE!"_

 _Her eyes flickered between the light off the diamond and the hopeful light in Harry's eyes. The love in his green eyes._

 _"FOUR!"_

 _"Yes," Ginny said breathily, conviction and emotion taking hold of her as she repeated, "Yes," louder. And again, "Yes - yes Harry - I will marry you."_

 _Her voice trembled on the last two words but it did not matter as Harry sprung to his feet and threw his arms around Ginny, his parted lips crushing hers as she held onto him tightly._

 _"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"_

 _The fireworks boomed loudly and quickly colored the black sky with falling rainbows of sparks. They parted slightly to glance sideways and Ginny was truly blown away by the thought and effort and timing that Harry had put into this._

 _A proposal._

 _Their eyes met and the fireworks threw their faces into a myriad of colors as they grinned happily. Harry pulled back further still, untangling his arms from hers to open the little black box once more. The decent sized square cut diamond winked at her before she noticed the smaller diamonds inlaid on either side of the band, the entire, beautiful ring cast in a brilliant white gold._

 _Harry delicately pulled it out of its velvet nest, shut the box and put it in his pocket, and reached for her left hand. She too was trembling lightly and they shared another laugh as he attempted twice to slide it on before it finally slipped onto her freckled ring finger._

 _Fireworks continued to blast loudly and Ginny rotated her hand gently as the reflective light bounced off the metal ceiling._

 _"A toast," Harry stated easily and Ginny's wet gaze fell on him again as he held both champagne flutes, one outstretched to her, and a few tears dropped off her lashes freely._

 _Words had almost all but escaped her for these long moments and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth as she took the glass from Harry._

 _"A toast -" he repeated, "To a magical life together - with the most beautiful witch in the world."_

 _"Here, here," Ginny responded softly, and their glasses clinked together as a final round of fireworks crashed deafeningly across the London skyline._

Two hours later, almost exactly to the minute, Ginny rolled off her back and twisted to sit with her legs underneath her, the silky sheets tangling around her waist as she sat back on her haunches and stared unblinkingly at the new bling on her left hand.

 _Engaged._

The word ran through her mind, repeating itself over and over, until her cheeks were aching from smiling so hard. Ginny glanced at the emerald eyes fixed on her and stretched her lips to their widest, Harry returning the expression as he stared at her from his reclined position.

 _Engaged._

Tears sprang forth and Ginny blinked rapidly to get rid of them. Her lips pressed together in a vain attempt to contain her smile and she fully turned her focus from the sparkling ring. Harry rolled onto his side to face her and the hand he placed on her sheet clad thigh was quickly burning an internal heat through the whole of her body. Ginny leaned forward to press a kiss to his mouth and she had to bite her lip to keep from going lower.

"Are you quite happy?" Harry asked.

"Quite," Ginny replied honestly and a smirk bloomed once more.

 _Engaged_ , she thought. And realized in the same moment that her life had just irrevocably shifted..

.

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A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed the first chapter and are looking forward to many more. I know it has been a long while I have posted anything and I am very happy to be back in the saddle. Any reviews would be greatly appreciated and I thank you in advance for joining me on this brand new journey with our favorite Wizarding World companions.


	3. Everything Is Good

**4 September** **2001**

The incessant pounding in her head was only eclipsed by the ceaseless knocking on her bedroom window. With as much strength as she could muster, Ginny finally threw the heavy covers off her legs and wobbled out of bed. There was still an achy tenderness on her right side where some ribs and a portion of her hipbone had been repaired with Skele-gro. Never an easy process, she swore she would never get hit by a Beater again as she limped across the carpeted floor towards the large glass balcony doors where a cream and tawny owl now hovered expectantly.

"Bloody bird," Ginny mumbled to herself.

Wincing as she pushed harder on the jammed lock, she grunted unladylike as the metal begrudgingly slid down towards her. Inhaling heavily at the minimal work, Ginny yanked on the old wooden door and cursed loudly when the effort propelled the corner into her bare foot.

"Fucking hell!" The redheaded witch bellowed and the owl swooped in to perch on the back of a cushioned chair, eyeing her beadily and clicking its beak irritatedly. The bird looked familiar, and with a knock of recognition, Ginny groaned.

It was usually not a good sign when your team captain sent you a letter personally.

"What could she possibly want with me right now?" She asked herself aloud and the owl cocked it's feathered head as if in silent answer.

Ginny turned and made to close the glass door behind her but she had scarcely touched the metal handle when another owl flew in and perched easily beside the first. This one was instantly recognizable and another groan escaped her parted lips, her eyes sliding shut as a weary sigh followed.

Most likely Bill was again asking, via Fleur's insistence, for her to babysit little Victore. If only her sister-in-law and Molly could get past their differences, if only for the newest generation of Weasleys.

There was a short hooting between the birds in greeting and Ginny made to close the balcony door again, but for a third time, an owl swooped in.

"Is this a bloody owlery now?" She questioned of the empty room, quickly pushing the door shut lest something else fly in.

The last owl was completely unrecognizable but the large, mostly black eagle owl gave her pause and reminded her vaguely of a Slytherin's pet from Hogwarts. It's walnut sized golden eyes looked at her unblinkingly and Ginny had a good mind to open its letter first, just to end the creepy stare and send it on its way.

"Alright, alright," Ginny responded appeasingly to the tawny owl who had arrived first. It clicked its talons impatiently but fluffed its feathers and hooted appreciatively as she reached for the scrap of parchment tied to its leg.

Eyeing the other two birds still watching her intently, she broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. An almost familiar handwriting dotted the short missive as Ginny squinted slightly to read the small print.

 _G. Weasley -_

 _I understand that you were hit directly in the abdomen with a Bludger during the match on Saturday. Skele-gro is a painful process but I expect that you will return to practice tomorrow and that you will be in top shape for the match this coming Saturday against the Kestrels._

 _Even though I am not joining the team in a playing capacity right now because of the first round of the Quidditch World Cup, I expect the Harpies to remain in peak condition and to continue to win in my absence. To ensure that you are able and ready to practice and play, I have arranged for the new team Healer to visit your home privately this afternoon. She will be sending correspondence shortly for your instructions on how to arrive. Send your response promptly or else I will step in myself._

 _Gwenog Jones_

 _Seeker, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies_

The owls hooted in turn and Ginny had the annoyed thought to send them all off without treats.

Stupid, pompous, controlling Gwenog Jones.

As if she couldn't take care of herself.

As if the Healers at St. Mungo's couldn't fix her injuries properly.

Ginny was half surprised that Gwenog herself _hadn't_ shown up at her door and demanded to examine how her healing was progressing.

Crumpling up the parchment, Ginny grabbed her wand off the nightstand next to the massive king bed just as she tossed the paper ball into the air. Her wand flicked and the ink began running as flames engulfed the page before the ashy remnants fell to the carpeted floor gently.

"You're just going to have to wait for a treat," she said to the tawny owl, eyeing the shifting feet of the bird and wondering if she had the energy to defend herself from an attacking beak and claws.

She slid her wand inside the band of her underwear so it pressed along the line of her left side and stretched a freckled hand towards Pierre, Bill and Fleur's handsome russet colored horned owl, while keeping Gwenog's testy bird in her close peripheral. But the affectionate cooing of Pierre garnered her full attention and Ginny smiled lightly as she stroked the soft feathers atop it's head.

"You're a sight for sore eyes amongst these two," she said to Pierre affectionately. "So long as Phlegm didn't send you on a useless flight," Ginny added warily, containing a chuckle when the familial owl gave her a side-long reproachful glare.

"Okay, okay," she told the bird appeasingly. "I won't call her that." A grin split her face at the thought of what else they used to call Fleur behind her back and she reached for the small scroll wrapped around the thin, outstretched leg. "But what she doesn't know, won't - HEY!"

Ginny shrieked at the tawny owl who had too quickly nipped at the shininess of her engagement ring when it caught the sunlight. Yanking her hand back, she glared at the offending bird and twisted the ring on her finger out of habit.

"That's enough from you," she uselessly scolded the owl and this time, slowly reached for the letter around Pierre's leg.

But as she unfurled the parchment, Ginny's heart leapt when she realized it was Charlie's handwriting scribbled before her.

 _Ginbug -_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. I heard about your injury in your last match and I assure you that I will personally visit that Bowlery fellow and let him know of his grave mistake in ambushing you. Maybe he'd like to feel the pain of Skele-gro._

 _Anyways, I sent Pierre because he brought me a letter from Bill and I figured I would save Spike the trouble of flying back and forth from Romania. Poor bird nearly flew into a tree before he got home last time I sent him your way._

 _I have to come to London on the 10th but I'm traveling in on Sunday night, and I was hoping to stay with you and Harry instead of going to the Burrow. Mum has been on my case about a girlfriend and I'd rather not endure her questions if I'm only there for the night. Either way, I can bug Ron to accommodate me if you're busy._

 _xoxo_

 _Charlie_

Wanting to pen a response immediately but knowing that her time was running short if she didn't want to see Gwenog unannounced, Ginny set Charlie's letter down and turned to the large eagle owl.

"You must be from the Healer then," she said to no response and readied herself for a barrage of pecking and flapping wings.

But the owl sat still and she quickly set about repeating the process of retrieving and opening the third letter.

 _Ms. Ginny Weasley,_

 _As I assume you are aware, Captain Jones has requested that I personally see to the completion of your healing following the incident during last Saturday's match. I have received and reviewed your charts and the notes from the Healers at St. Mungos and feel fully prepared to assist you in your journey back onto the pitch._

 _However, because your address is not listed in the team directory, I must request that you send a responding correspondence with instructions on how and where to meet you. I understand the privacy your fiancee likes to keep and am willing to follow the necessary protocols he employs for guests._

 _My owl will wait for your return letter, but please be advised, Captain Jones is expecting a full report by dusk and I do not think either of us wishes to implore her wrath._

 _Kindest regards,_

 _Healer M. Leisque_

 _Holyhead Harpies_

"Bugger," Ginny mumbled agitatedly.

She had really been hoping to spend that day relaxing and getting caught up with the lingering unpacked boxes around their new home. But because of Gwenog's micromanaging, she was going to have to get a jump on making her body limber again instead. Sleeping for almost two days straight may have mended her bones, but it was not going to make a slow hour of yoga any easier on her cramped muscles.

Glancing at the golden clock by the doorway, Ginny estimated that three o'clock would give her ample time to eat, exercise, and shower before Healer Leisque arrived. Running through a growing list of things she needed to do, she ripped a large, uneven chunk of parchment from the Healer's letter, grabbed a quill off the nightstand, and hastily wrote.

 _3 O'Clock_

 _Use the Floo_

 _12 Grimy Cupcakes_

 _GW_

The ebony owl extended a leg once more as nimble fingers fastened the tiny piece of paper to its carrier.

"Just a mo'," Ginny said to the birds and pulled her wand out to flick it wordlessly.

A zooming swoosh grew louder until a small plastic sack of owl treats came floating into the bedroom. Ginny pinched a corner of the bag out of the air and pulled two strawberry sized brown chunks for the larger birds. Gwenog's tawny owl nearly bit the top of her finger off in its hurry to eat its snack and it came as no shock that the animal took flight as soon as it's beak closed, barely leaving Ginny the moment necessary to flick her wand to throw open the balcony door.

"I'll have to compliment your owner on your exemplary behavior today," Ginny told the eagle owl as she fed it a treat, adding, "some people could learn from it," while sending one last glare out the door.

"Off you go," she said by way of departure a moment later. The bird took its cue, spreading its impressive wings and pumping them twice before lifting off the back of the sofa and soaring out into the open sky.

Ginny was admittedly mildly impressed with this Healer's openness for any sort of bizarre security measures Harry may have in place. Some witches and wizards just didn't get why the most famous wizard in the world would want to live in anonymity amongst the Muggles, or why he would still shy away from the public eye. But this M. Leisque knew Ginny would adhere to a certain bit of privacy herself and made it easier on them both by asking for instructions on how to arrive, and where.

Because Harry had implemented several measures of security for them. The biggest being their move out of Number 12.

After he had proposed eight months ago, she had garnered the idea that he was hiding something from her. Ginny hadn't needed to wait too long to figure out what it was because he had taken her to an empty two story flat on Valentine's Day and proclaimed happily that he had bought it for them. He had explained that the constant comings and goings of so many friends and family at Grimmauld Place was not affording them the privacy they needed as a soon-to-be married couple.

With both of their busy schedules she couldn't complain too much - after all she was seeing more of everyone else than she was of her fiancee - but the added silence of an empty home came as a change. Harry wanted privacy and Ginny was all too happy to oblige, especially on the nights when they decided to christen every new space and room.

The extra safeguards, though, did not permit visitors easily at first. Harry had applied the protective spells himself and he had created them so that only he and Ginny could Apparate directly into the flat. If anyone else wished to come to their home, they were strictly allowed to use the Floo network to do so. And even then, they needed the most current nickname for the house's fireplace, as Harry had it changed every few days as an extra precaution.

Ginny had found the previsions tedious at first. Harry had shrugged unconcernedly and told her flatly that it was the system they were going to use for their home. But it had not been him that Molly had sent a Howler to when she had arrived in a fireplace in Northern France instead of Ginny's one afternoon. No, Harry had gotten off scott free while the youngest Weasley took flack for not alerting her mother to the change in Floo name.

Now, every friend and family member sent a letter first before they came over and Ginny was admittedly grateful for the notice prior to someone's arrival.

Still, Harry was adamant about not having complete strangers in their home, and she had taken up the habit of arranging for guests to meet her at Number Twelve. The house at Grimmauld Place was still deemed Unplottable but he had agreed that joining the fireplace to the Floo network would be the easiest way to receive company without having to give them the physical address. Using his growing list of connections at the Ministry, Harry opened up a private channel to the kitchen grate and gave it a nickname similar enough to its real location.

 _12 Grimy Cupcakes_

Ginny fleetingly wondered what the Healer would think of the Floo name but realized she didn't really care, honestly hoping that she would think she was being sent to a bakery instead of a player's residence.

She stroked Pierre's coppery feathers absently, thinking idly if Harry would be home with her on Sunday to greet Charlie, and only remembered that the bird was waiting on her replying letter when it let out a chirping hoot.

"Alright, alright," Ginny muttered and tore off a bit of parchment to pen her response to her brother, already eager to see the redheaded wizard as she told him he was always welcome at her home.

The following hour did pass by slowly as Ginny gently moved from pose to pose, focusing on her breathing and the flow of yoga. Some stretches pulled her muscles a bit tighter than she would have liked and she was quick to remedy her position until the pain subsided. But by the time she finished her last asana and opened her eyes, she felt energized and empowered, ready to run laps and fly circles around a pitch.

After making a rather large sandwich and shoving an entire bag of crisps underneath her arm, Ginny padded through the almost bare flat to sit outside on the magically shielded balcony and enjoy her lunch. The temperatures were steadily becoming cooler at night but the sun lent them its vast warmth during the day, creating bright and sweaty afternoons. This was one such day, few clouds in the sky to deter Ginny from enjoying her free time thoroughly.

Too thoroughly it seemed as she jolted awake just over two hours later and instantly threw a hand over her eyes to hide the jarring brightness. The growing shade from the building had lulled her into a stasis once her belly was full and her momentum was zapped. A line of Muggle cars were honking repeatedly on the street far below and the commotion of frustrated drivers brought Ginny back to consciousness, her head jerking when a siren sounded loudly nearby.

One glance at the petite, star studded watch on her freckled wrist told her it was just past two o'clock and she jumped to her feet as the crumb laden plate and half full bag of crisps fell to the floor. The sudden movement aggrevated the slightly stiff muscles on her right side and Ginny took a few wincing steps before the tension disappeared, now gingerly walking back inside as she flicked her wand to have the dishes float behind her.

Her free time before her appointment with the Healer was dwindling but that did not keep Ginny from taking a steamy, leisurely shower. Only emerging after her skin was well past wrinkley, she cast a drying spell on her hair and headed towards the only room that had been fully furnished and unpacked - the closet.

Ginny ran a hand along the sleeves of her many Quidditch robes hanging in line and eyed the large pile of dirty laundry Harry had built in a corner, wondering why he hadn't told Kreacher to do it yet. It wasn't like the house elf was given much else to do but she supposed with Harry's tightly packed schedule, and with the elf returned to his duties at Hogwarts, it was one of the last things on his mind. She was hardly one to mind - growing up with six brothers had dulled her sense of smell for sweaty clothing to nonexistence.

After choosing and putting on a pair of light, stretchy black pants and a thin, grey cotton shirt, Ginny pulled on a pair of leather boots and surveyed herself in the full length mirror leaning against one wall. There were a few more lines on her face than someone who had just turned twenty should have. Her eyes held a depth and knowledge that betrayed her youth but forcing a smile, she knew she wore it well, considering how some others looked on this side of the war.

Ginny brushed invisible lint off her thigh, nodded once to herself, and slid her wand inside the hidden pocket on her leg. Time to get this over with.

In no way was she trying to delay her return to the Quidditch pitch - on the contrary, Ginny was excited at the prospect of seeing her teammates and practicing again. What she didn't like was Gwenog Jones telling her what to do when the ruddy witch was thousands of miles away, supposedly focusing on the Quidditch World Cup. She was more than capable of taking care of her own injuries and seeking medical help, thank you very much.

These thoughts propelled Ginny through the quiet flat, her feet taking her to the large fireplace adjacent to a lone couch in the living room. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the metal dish atop the mantle, she stepped into the relatively clean grate, turned around, and threw the green dust at the tile, shouting her destination as she did so.

Everything spun around her quickly in a familiar fashion and within moments, her feet were on solid ground once more. A different fireplace surrounded her but as she stepped out, Ginny felt more at home now than she had less than a minute ago.

Ducking her head and walking forward, she surveyed the dimly lit kitchen and retrieved her wand, casually increasing the fairy lights above as she strode along the length of the massive wooden table. Everything was spotless, a slight scent of lemon in the air, and Ginny was extremely pleased to see a perfectly whole buttercream frosted cake sitting expectantly on the countertop nearest the darkened staircase. A very clear indication that Molly Weasley had visited Number Twelve that morning.

Checking the clock on the wall to her right, Ginny lamented the fact that she did not have several minutes to enjoy a slice right then. The large hand was a scant few centimeters away from doling three o'clock and soon enough Healer Leisque would arrive the same way she just had. Needing to do something with her hands to keep from fidgeting, she grasped her wand lightly and absently pointed it at the stove, then the cabinets, and finally a drawer.

The kettle filled with water, an eye came to life with a small flame on the stove, and plates flew from the cabinet as a pair of forks and a silver spade joined the flatware on the table. It took her a moment but Ginny found an unopened box of green tea bags and set that too on the table, along with a jar of fresh honey. Just as the grandfather clock upstairs sounded the top of the hour, the kettle began to hiss and Ginny placed two gold rimmed teacups next to the cake on the countertop.

She turned around just in time to see green flames erupt in the kitchen's hearth and a few seconds later, a tall, broad shouldered witch in Harpies emerald robes stepped forward, a medium sized leather bag following her out of the fireplace.

"Hello Miss Weasley -" the Healer said, taking a step into the kitchen and extending a hand towards Ginny. "I'm Monica Leisque."

"You can call me Ginny," the redhead replied, meeting her halfway to shake her hand and briefly thinking this new woman's grip was quite strong for a Healer. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Ginny then," Monica stated without any inflection, her tone all business. Wide, almond shaped amber eyes took in her appearance from head to toe. "You look to be in good form," the Healer added clinically. "Any lingering aches or pains from the accident?"

 _Jumping right into it then_ , Ginny thought, and she had to press her lips together to keep a sneer from twisting her mouth. Of course Gwenog would find and send a Healer that was no nonsense and right to the point, little to no comforting bedside manner.

"There is some tenderness along here," Ginny said, indicating with a hand to the natural curve of her waist, "After I've been laying down or when I wake in the mornings -"

"That is quite normal," Monica stated easily and stepped around Ginny to quickly survey the large, low ceilinged room. "There is no trouble breathing? Or stretching your body in any certain ways?"

The Healer's stark golden eyes held Ginny's gaze unblinkingly for half a minute while the younger witch tried to determine if she was covertly being asked about her sex life. The implication was somewhat laughable since she and Harry had not spent more than ten minutes together without one of them falling asleep in the past month. Ginny wanted to blurt that the Healers at St. Mungos had seen more of her naked body than her fiancee had recently, but she held her tongue and used the near minute to conceive a snappy response.

"Just the strain… of… going to… the bathroom…" Ginny replied lamely and she hated herself for the flush she felt heat her cheeks.

The sluggish retort earned her a look of raised eyebrows and noncommittal acceptance, and Monica eyed her new patient once more as if she may have been hit on the head too. Nodding slowly, she glanced around the kitchen again and lingered long enough on the mouthwatering cake that Ginny felt the need to fill the silence with a perfunctory question.

"Can I get you something to drink?" More silence met her query and Ginny dutifully added, "I just made the tea - would you like a cuppa?"

"No thank you," Healer Leisque replied politely.

The brown leather bag she had brought with her was placed on the wooden table with a soft _thunk_ and Ginny was immediately curious as to why a Healer needed more than their wand on a routine healing assessment. Monica opened the flaps, peered inside, and met Ginny's noiseless inquiry with a flat stare.

"Is there somewhere more suitable for you to lay down so that I may perform a routine inspection of your injuries?, or are you comfortable laying on this table?"

Ginny let a pregnant pause pass before she cocked her head to the side and shifted so she could glance to the darkened staircase.

"We can go upstairs to the drawing room - there's more light and more - space for you to do - whatever you need to do."

The Healer nodded agreeably, shut her bag once more, and gestured vaguely for Ginny to lead the way.

"By all means," Monica stated curtly.

Ginny turned for the stairs and made a face to the empty space before her, slightly agitated that this Healer was acting so brusque. She was not the one to blame for the last minute consultation.

Drawing her wand up, the smaller witch led the way upstairs from the basement. She motioned for the lights to burn brighter as they came up to the long hallway that led to the front door. Healer Leisque glanced curiously at the portraits and wall decorations, and Ginny was momentarily pleased that this house was finally garnering the approval it deserved.

That is, until the other witch glanced at the dingy hardwood floors and frowned at their lackluster appearance.

"This house is always a work in progress," Ginny said to fill the tension thick air. "Harry and I have not had enough time to do all of the necessary renovations yet but these floors were absolutely dreadful before we ripped up the carpet. "

The Healer looked sideways into the dimly lit dining room, surely noting the cobwebs on the light fixtures and the mismatched chairs surrounding the ornate table. It was hard to miss the empty spots where portraits had once hung and the cabinet in the far corner seemed to rattle slightly.

"Do you mean to make this your home? raise your family here?" Healer Leisque asked with mild interest, looking back at Ginny with gently raised eyebrows.

"Err -" Ginny stuttered, not quite sure how to answer the strange witch she had just met. "That has not been discussed. Surely that won't be for some time yet," she finished and gave an awkward laugh that did nothing to hide her discomfort at the sudden question.

"The drawing room is just upstairs," Ginny stated after an appraising look from the Healer, giving a short cough as she turned at the bottom of the grand staircase and began going up.

"This is quite the magnificent house," Healer Leisque said softly, more to herself than to Ginny and the redhead was once more pleased that someone else saw the beauty in Number Twelve.

"It was passed down to Harry through family," Ginny told her as they reached the first landing and turned left towards the closed door ways on both sides of the hall. As if on cue, muffled screaming fluttered the thick curtain in front of Mrs. Black's portrait and Ginny prayed the Healer would not prod her further as she easily supplied, "Some of whom we just can't get rid of."

For all of the common oddities in the Wizarding World, nothing was quickly explained away, especially if an interesting piece of magic was involved. Surely it was not every day that any witch or wizard came across so many oddities in one place wherein the acceptance of dark magic was not permitted, but the objects remained still. For the Healer's quiet reception of the oddness that was Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Ginny was immensely grateful. She realized now, how few new people she let into her life, forgetting how strange she and everything around her could be.

"Here we are," she announced.

The double doors for the drawing room were so close that Ginny seemed to run for them, eager for her hands to do something that would keep her from talking about nothing. Throwing them open with a tad too much gusto, Ginny jerked her wand in several quick patterns as she walked into the not quite shabby room. Three sets of curtains flung open, leaving trails of dust in their wake, and the gas lamps on the opposite walls sprang to life.

"I take it you and your fiancé are not living here now," Healer Leisque said absently and it was with a jolt that Ginny realized the other witch was already walking along the wall, her face upturned so that she could examine the plentiful library shelves.

"The house is too big for just the two of us," Ginny answered, taking the moment to really look at the Healer.

Hair the color of roasted nuts was pulled back into a large bun at the base of her neck. The Harpies dark emerald robes complimented the olive tone of her skin and the golden talon emblazoned on the breast pocket glinted just enough to accentuate her strange amber eyes. There was no polish on her nails and her face was bare but for a few coats of mascara on a set of full lashes. She was attractive, but not necessarily in an approachable way. Healer Leisque was exactly as she appeared to be - a no nonsense witch who took her job very seriously.

Until Ginny noticed her stop completely in front of the large glass display case that still housed dark artifacts, glass jars filled with questionable liquids and substances, and a stack of china plates with a faded imprint of the House of Black crest.

"Did these come with the house too?" The Healer asked without turning around, her face inching closer to peer at the shadowed objects.

"Unfortunately," Ginny replied and she walked towards a chaise lounge, sweeping dust off it with a quick hand. "Will this be good?" She motioned to the cushioned surface.

"Yes, yes, that will be fine," Healer Leisque said and seemed to remember why she was there, grabbing the handles of her bag and swiftly coming to stand beside Ginny. "Please," she added, gesturing to the lounge as she set her satchel on the glass top coffee table nearby and opened it. "Sit down and relax."

Ginny shrugged soundlessly but did as she was told and sat on the low couch. She stretched out her legs and squirmed until she was comfortable, twisting her neck from side to side and rolling her shoulders.

Healer Leisque dropped into a crouch and turned to face Ginny, their faces nearly level. The redhead gave an involuntary yelp and would have shot to her feet if the Healer had not put a hand to her shoulder to keep her in place.

"What the bloody hell is that!?" Ginny exclaimed louder than intended, pointing vaguely at the thick rubber cord that ran from both her ears to a thick, concave disc at the end.

An amused chuckle was the only indication that the elder witch had heard what she said. The Healer was gently pressing one hand onto her knees to keep her from standing, while the other hand remained on her shoulder. Satisfied that Ginny was comfortable, enough for her to be examined at least, Healer Leisque reached again for the metal disc while angling her head to adjust the pieces in her ears.

"This is called a stethoscope," she told Ginny with what the seated witch was certain was an attempt at a reassuring smile. "It is a Muggle tool used for medicine. This part here - the diaphragm, or the head-piece - " she indicated to the circular end piece "- amplifies sounds and noises inside the body. These parts go in my ears so that I can hear everything clearly. Most of the time, it is just used to listen to a person's heartbeat but it is also helpful in finding breathing or intestinal abnormalities."

"What are you going to use it on me for?" Ginny asked skeptically, her auburn brows furrowed.

The Healer smiled wider and her eyes crinkled as she happily dove in to her element.

"Normal routine examinations with a Muggle doctor typically always involve checking the heart rate and lung function with a stethoscope," Healer Leisque explained with a wiggle of said instrument. "Usually it's one of the first things they do. I am going to use it on you, just to be certain that your lungs were not damaged in any way, however minor, when you were hit."

"Blindsided is more like it," Ginny commented grumpily, anger sparking as she remembered the collision.

"It did not show good sportsmanship and it certainly didn't help his team's reputation," the Healer agreed.

"You were at the match?" Ginny asked curiously, wondering how she had not seen the statuesque witch among the Harpies coaches and staff.

"Of course I was - it would have been tantamount to missing a first day of work if I had not come to watch how my new team was receiving their bumps and bruises."

"But you didn't take me to St. Mungos," Ginny said, the end of the statement lilting upwards in a questioning tone.

Again Healer Leisque smiled oddly and Ginny had the impression that she was using the same tactics and approach that she would with a three year old.

"I did take you to St. Mungos. You were in and out of consciousness by the time you were levitated to the ground. As Team Healer, I carry a Portkey to St. Mungos in my bag to every match - it just has to be activated, we go through it, and poof - we arrive in the lobby."

Yes, Ginny definitely felt like she was being talked to like a child would be.

"I left you with the best Healer for bone regrowth that I know and I returned to the pitch."

Healer Leisque looked at her as if that should explain it all and grabbed the end of her stethoscope once more.

"If you could just turn around so that your back is to me," she told Ginny evenly, dropping several inches to her knees and sitting back on her haunches.

Using the movement to slide a hand onto the handle of her wand discreetly, Ginny silently complied while preparing to defend herself if that Muggle instrument were to be used against her. It looked harmless enough, but so was a Niffler until you messed with its treasure.

"Okay -" Healer Leisque began. She placed a hand on Ginny's left shoulder blade and nearly caused the redhead to jump when the cold metal of the diaphragm was placed on the right side.

"Take a deep breath in for me -" the Healer paused, waiting until Ginny did what she said " - and let it out."

She felt silly taking instruction on how to breathe but Ginny was not yet ready to voice her unease. Muggles weren't exactly as backwards as some wizards wanted you to believe.

Healer Leisque moved the metal disc down slightly and repeated -

"Take a deep breath in - and out."

The near silent process went on for another minute as the Healer moved the head-piece to several spots along her right side, listening intently and repeating the same directive.

"If you don't mind me asking -" Ginny began once awkwardness set in to the heavy quiet.

But she was interrupted with a loud _Shhh!_ from the Healer.

"I realize how strange this must feel for you," she told Ginny as if reading her mind after another moment. Healer Leisque let go of the stethoscope and gingerly pulled out the ear pieces to rest them around her neck. "Though I can easily say, you have handled it the best by far."

"Your use of Muggle medicine practices?" Ginny asked, taking her hand off her wand and turning around to face forward.

"If you could lie down -" Healer Leisque instructed her instead. "No, this way - so your right side is closest to me. Good good."

She removed the stethoscope from around her neck and returned it to her bag. Snapping it shut, she reached for her wand off the coffee table and held it just above the bones that had been broken days before.

"Just lay still - this will only take a moment," the Healer told her and Ginny glanced down to see what she was doing.

" _Intraspiciato_ ," Healer Leisque said clearly and she began moving her wand slowly over Ginny's right side.

A faint blue light hovered underneath the path her wand was repeating and Ginny blinked rapidly, certain her eyes were deceiving her. But as the spell was said again and again, the blue tinged images became clearer and Ginny was more and more impressed with this new healing magic she was witnessing.

She knew there was Muggle technology that allowed them to see inside of a person's body and she reasoned that there was no sound logic that said that wizards should not have a spell that did something similar.

Not quite able to angle herself to fully see what the Healer was seeing, Ginny relaxed fully and let the other witch do her job. After all, it was quite strange to see inside one's own body even if the images were of the likes of a semitransparent projection.

"Everything look good?" Ginny asked, glancing at the Healer to see her nod shortly.

"Everything has healed up nicely," Healer Leisque concurred distractedly. "Your bones have reset without any seams where they were broken - I will have to commend Healer Joneson on his attention to detail - and your organs appear to be healthy and functioning fully once again."

Ginny remained silent while the rest of the strange examination finished and she was more than happy to sit up when commanded to as the Healer sheathed her wand.

"I'm sure Gwenog will be pleased to hear the good report," the redhead stated merrily with an impish grin.

"I am certain she will, but we are not done just yet."

Her face fell and her brows furrowed.

"If you could stand over there -" Healer Leisque pointed to an open space nearest the wall that once held the Black family tree " - I'm going to have you do some stretches to make sure your range of motion is up to snuff."

"I was stretching and moving around a lot earlier," Ginny protested, at least attempting to not sound like a petulant child. "There wasn't any pain - just stiffness from being on my ass for so long."

"That's all well and good," the Healer said, her no nonsense demeanor back in full force. "But it is my responsibility to clear you of your injuries before you go back onto the pitch to hurt yourself some more. I must confirm with my own eyes and magic that you are deemed fit to return. That is the policy and I adhere to it as such. Besides - your coaches will do the same thing in practice tomorrow."

"Alright, alright," Ginny stated apologetically.

They stood up at almost the same time but it was Ginny's quick reflexes that saved them from colliding as she darted to the side. She played it off as if she meant to do so and casually strode to the open space as indicated.

"Now then - place your feet a bit more than shoulders width apart - just a bit more - there," Healer Leisque commented as she came to stand several feet in front of Ginny. "Toes facing forward - good. Hold your arms out away from your body at shoulder height. Now, slowly, bend down and touch your left hand to your right foot."

The pair of witches spent close to ten minutes going through several stretches not unlike the yoga poses she had done earlier. Ginny's background annoyance with the whole check up faded away as her muscles worked and by the time the Healer announced once more that everything looked good, she felt a buzzing energy in her bones.

"May I ask you something?" Ginny questioned as the Healer returned to her bag, retrieved a quill and a scroll already written on, and wrote a quick summary of the examination.

"You want to know why I use Muggle practices along with Healing," Healer Leisque supplied for her without a hint of question in her words, without looking up from what she was writing.

"Well -" Ginny stuttered, very certain that the other witch was asked the same question often. "Yes."

A long moment passed wherein the only sound in the drawing room was the quill scratching on parchment. But that too fell silent, and Ginny watched as the Healer duplicated, then triplicated the report before rolling up and sealing the original.

"I am taking classes at what is known as a medical school so that I may become a Muggle physician as well as a Healer." Their eyes met across the room and Ginny found herself growing proud of the incredibly rare task she was attempting to accomplish, no matter how recently they had met. "There is always more than one way to get something done, and I believe that the Wizarding community has cut themselves off from modern advances for too long."

"Are you going to be - cutting into people then too?" Ginny asked haltingly, unsure if she was wording that correctly.

"Not if I can help it," Healer Leisque said with a small grin and Ginny gave a faltering smile in return.

Downstairs, the repaired grandfather clock gonged once to toll the bottom of the hour. If she listened hard enough, Ginny could hear Mrs. Black screaming about blood traitors and her outrage at the desecration of her once beautiful home.

"I need to be going," the statuesque Healer told Ginny.

She looked in her bag once more to make sure everything was packed away, then snapped it shut with a sharp _clack_. Healer Leisque patted the long pocket of her robes to feel for her wand and, satisfied that she had stowed everything in the correct places, looked to Ginny with slight expectancy.

The redhead did not respond right away. Instead she was caught staring at the Healer, a look mixed of vague recognition and concentration creating thick wrinkles on her forehead.

"Certainly," Ginny agreed with more enthusiasm than what showed on her face. "I'll walk you downstairs"

They left the sunlit drawing room and proceeded into the darkened hallway. It was quite spooky still and Ginny had the thought to purchase bigger sconces to light the corridors. As they came upon the now silent portrait of Walburga Black, Ginny banged the toe of her boot into the staircase railing and gave a cry of surprise, quickly shutting her mouth when her yelp started the painting's screams again.

"Bloody hell," Ginny swore, giving the Healer an apologetic grimace and turning to descend the stairs.

"I'm sure you have attempted everything to remove the remaining - artifacts in this house," Healer Leisque assumed, her eyes still roving over the house's details as she voiced her thoughts and their feet moved speedily. "But I know of a very discrete and accomplished - business that would be more than happy to dispose of the items you no longer need. And I'm certain that they would see it as a wonderful challenge to attempt to remove that portrait as well."

Not having expected the Healer to take a real interest in the renovations of Grimmauld Place, or to vocalize any prior collusion with dark artifacts, Ginny kept her eyebrows raised in natural curiosity and glanced backwards as they neared the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh yea?" She responded casually.

The other witch nodded.

"They have a storefront in Hogsmeade. Just off High Street, across from the Hog's Head," Healer Leisque informed Ginny as they reached the main floor. "It's called EM Enterprises. It doesn't look like much but they can be very accommodating."

"Thank you," Ginny remarked automatically, only slightly considering the recommendation because this Healer did not seem like someone to not know all of the facts before she did something. "I'll have to stop by there next time I am in the village."

"I believe it would be worth your time to schedule a consultation at the very least," the taller witch said matter-of-factly. "If their prices are too rich for your blood, you will nonetheless be able to glean some advice and tips just by meeting with them."

The doorway to the basement yawned wide in front of them and Ginny picked up her pace, eager once more to be rid of the Healer. Knowing the way from memory, her feet moved without thought as she sped down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Of course - yea," Ginny agreed with a quick nod of her head, not quite remembering what they had just been talking about as she suddenly remembered the whole cake waiting for her.

"Though - " the Healer hesitated and it was enough for Ginny to refocus her attention, the lights growing stronger as they paused nearest the end of the long wooden table. "Maybe don't mention my name. There was a dispute about the price of knives last time I was there, and - well, I think they'd like to forget about that afternoon."

Intrigued, though not enough to ask more questions and delay her eating of the cake, Ginny tilted her head slightly and said, "Hmm."

Healer Leisque purposefully looked to the clock behind Ginny's face and smiled tightly.

"I must be off then," she told the redhead, clutching her leather bag firmly and turning to walk towards the far end of the room and the fireplace. "You are cleared for play by Healing standards. Just don't make it a habit of needing to see me."

Ginny grinned easily in return. No, this was not a meeting she wanted to repeat again soon.

"Thank you, Healer, for coming on such short notice."

"Of course," Healer Leisque said politely.

She reached for a handful of Floo powder and gave Ginny one last pleasant nod.

"See you on Saturday at the match," the redhead stated almost cheerfully.

The Healer smiled genuinely, threw the glittery green powder to her feet and voiced her destination, swirling out of sight in a flash.

Ginny sighed, and wasted no time in moving towards the delicious looking cake that she was certain was her favorite - a rich chocolate with cream cheese frosting. Her mouth watered as she picked up the silver spade, and the last coherent thought she had before she tucked in, was to send word to have the Floo network name changed again at Number Twelve.


	4. Chasing and Seeking

**4 September 2001**

There were still nights where he couldn't sleep.

Nights where his mind demanded to stay active and he lay in bed, staring at the darkened ceiling and listening to Ginny snore softly.

Nights when he was consumed by the what-ifs and the what-could-have-happeneds.

And there were nights when he did sleep, only to awake a couple of hours - on the worst nights, after a few minutes - covered in a sheen of sweat and shaking. Those nights, when he saw the bodies littering the Great Hall or heard the screams as people were tortured. On those nights, Harry Potter was deeply reminded that he had left a part of himself on the battlefield when he had defeated Lord Voldemort.

But the memories that flitted through his mind as dreams and nightmares were becoming harder to distinguish from his more current memories of Auror robes and the lesser horrors he now saw on a day-to-day basis.

After the war, he assumed that becoming an Auror was the perfect job for him. He knew how to defeat dark wizards and he had a knack for attracting and finding dark artifacts. It was a natural fit.

And it was.

Harry loved being an Auror as much as he loved Ginny. The reconnaissance, the excitement, the thrill of getting the bad guys - it all made his heart beat faster and his senses sharpen.

But it hadn't taken him long to realize that the real reason why he enjoyed being an Auror, was because it was easy for him.

It was just a continuation of what his life had been building to from the moment Voldemort had cursed him with the lightning bolt scar. Fighting and running from danger was all he had known since he was he was fifteen, and it was easy to keep with the same path once he was given a choice in the matter.

Harry knew how to track them, knew how they thought, where they would go, and what they would intend to do. After having Voldemort in his head for so many years, it seemed like his next logical step to join the Auror forces and use the experience he already had.

The only point of contention he foresaw was the fact that he didn't finish school. No NEWTS surely meant he would have to prolong his admittance to the Auror program but the interm Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, waived that minor detail - for him and Ron - and his life continued as normal after the war.

Wake up, get ready for the day, fight dark wizards, return home. Repeat.

Harry still had to go through the three years of training as was required of every Auror. But once more, Kingsley gave Harry a loophole. The soon-to-be Minister of Magic revised the protocols for what was dubbed the New Era of Aurors, allowing Harry to both train his friends and new recruits, and to join the senor Aurors in the field to glean his own methods and ways of doing things.

It was not as easy a transition as everyone had hoped it would be though. Harry was determined to catch all of the remaining Death Eaters as quick as he could, but his infamous face was a dead giveaway and more than once, his inability to take direction led to a suspect fleeing.

Just after his first year in training, Harry had received his first punishment. He had been on an information gathering mission with Neville, tracking down an Irish Death Eater by the name of Donny MacTiran. They had followed him to a dingy pub in Sunderland, quietly sitting in a darkened corner so as not to attract any unwanted attention. Over two hours, nothing had happened except the consumption of many pints and Harry was growing antsy. He whispered to Neville about following the Dark wizard to the loo and arresting him, but his idea was rebuffed - this was just supposed to be reconnaissance after all. Sulking silently, Harry narrowed his eyes, watching and waiting.

It wasn't long before Neville stood, grabbed their empty mugs, and went to the bar to get them another round of Butterbeers. MacTiran got to his feet a moment later and slinked off to the bathroom, and Harry saw his chance. Giving a quick look around first, he pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and slid underneath it. No one seemed the wiser that a man had just disappeared but this was not the type of place where it was noticed if something was a bit odd.

Harry had practically rushed the former Death Eater as soon as the loo door shut behind him, whipping off the cloak and charging forward, his wand out. He let off a blasting _Petrificus Totalus_ and moved to catch the falling stiffened body. But he quickly realized his grave mistake as he rolled the large man over - he had hit a Muggle with the full body bind, not MacTiran. The commotion brought another random man out of the lone stall and the shouting had just begun when Neville threw open the door.

By the time the pair of Aurors returned to the Ministry of Magic, Director Robbards was waiting in the atrium, looking severely unhappy and ready to pop a blood vessel. Harry had received a week's probation and was remanded to take a course on self control, but the real punishment was the decree that he could no longer use his Invisibility Cloak unless specified in the mission briefing.

He had ranted and raved that night, overreacting slightly as he loudly and repeatedly told Ginny that the Director had it out for him. The elder wizard was still peeved about Harry's hasty admission and rise to the top of his class, Harry spout, not caring that it was Robbards himself who had the idea to have him lead his fellow new recruits.

But none of that mattered five days later when Walden Macnair was found in Edinburgh and captured. Even though Harry did not have anything to do with the accomplishment, his sour mood lifted and he boasted for days that they were reaching the final leg of finding all of the escaped Death Eaters.

Nearly nine months later though, the Aurors had only caught Selwyn, and it was of little relief to Harry that more than half of Voldemort's remaining supporters were behind bars.

As the days dragged on and he felt himself a bit useless for being stuck in his cubicle with no leads, Harry found respite in Ginny. He had almost completely moved in with her to her small flat near Diagon Alley that she had purchased after joining the Harpies. Despite the protests from Ron that he should be staying at Number Twelve more, Harry began calling the tiny apartment home and went to Grimmauld Place less and less.

He couldn't say it outright but the townhouse in London reminded him of Sirius at every turn. Once his deceased godfather's portrait was hung near the entryway, Harry could hardly walk in the door without a wave of grief washing over him. He was still plagued with guilt over the events that led to Sirius's death and he could scarcely meet the portraits nonmoving gaze unless he was deep into a bottle of Firewhiskey. He assumed that renovating Grimmauld Place would bring him a sense of ease, making the house his own, but it was like putting makeup on a pig - he still saw the history and memories underneath the redecorations and felt the ghosts of the past.

As their respective schedules became more chaotic, Harry and Ginny spent less time together. He had basically finished the perfunctory Auror training and had garnered more hours on the job as his limitations receded, except for the Cloak rule he noticed. Ginny was gone more often with practice, matches, and the necessary travel to foreign countries. Their well maintained time together dwindled to dinner once a week, then once every other week, once a month - until they settled for a quick breakfast together on the hurried mornings that they were up at the same time. The occasional family meal at the Burrow offered Harry and Ginny optimal togetherness but even those few hours were hampered with coddling and chiding from Molly Weasley, the general loudness of the oddly constructed house giving them little room for a private conversation.

Then, in the middle of November, Harry had woken up startled, his dream of Voldemort in a Quidditch uniform chasing him around a pitch receding, and he had known then and there, glancing at the open mouthed, snoring Ginny, that he wanted to marry the witch beside him. After making the decision to do it, it hadn't been too terribly difficult to plan a surprise proposal befitting the redheaded witch. Conflicting schedules notwithstanding, Harry just had to purchase the perfect diamond ring and find the right circumstances.

He had not initially planned to wait until New Year's Eve but it seemed cliche to propose marriage on Christmas with the entire family watching. It was a private moment that did not need dozens of wide eyes watching. Ringing in the new year with a new ring seemed overdone too, but it was a holiday of selective celebrating, and honestly, Harry didn't think he could wait until another romantic moment coincided with their differing calendars.

He asked, she said yes, and they had returned to Grimmauld Place to share the good news with their closest friends who were already there to commemorate the beginning of a new year.

In the ensuing weeks, things had returned to a happier normal for Harry and Ginny. Their schedules remained locked in a conflicting manner but they were more content with it, boldly thinking that things would change and they would eventually get more time together.

After they had officially moved in together to the new penthouse flat in Regent's Park, there was little else to think about beyond work and making the new address feel like home. February bled into March, then April, and the endless days of summer went came upon them quicker than usual, as time was wont to do.

Yes, Harry was relegated to lengthier missions, and yes, Ginny gained more responsibility as the Quidditch World Cup qualifying began and her team captain was pulled in a different direction. But they promised each other that they would find time for each other next week.

Then the week after.

Then the week after that.

Until it was Harry's last day of the Auror training program and they realized their celebratory dinner was the first they had had together in nearly three months.

The days continued to slip through their fingers as Ginny began the slow process of planning for a wedding that did not have a set date. Harry repeatedly stated that he was in no rush, as long as he knew that she was promised to him. But Ginny grew aggravated with his complacency and lack of decisiveness until she too started saying that the plans could wait until she had more time to figure it out.

It wasn't like the whole British Wizarding world was waiting with bated breath for the wedding of the Chosen One.

When July 1st had arrived, it had come with a sense of relief. Harry was turning twenty one at the end of the month and Ginny was adamant that a surprise party would be the best course of action to lighten everyone's moods in the hot, hot weather. She spent a majority of her free time covertly finalizing details with her mother until Harry became suspicious of the constant owls and whispered conversations. Ginny lied and told him that Molly was harassing her about the dangers of her profession when she should be focused on becoming a wife and future mother. With a tone of agreement for his soon to be mother-in-law, Harry bought the untruth hook, line, and sinker, and the preparations continued.

But it was all for naught. The night before the much anticipated surprise party, Harry was sent to Albania for several days to assess the threat of a small number of Voldemort's earliest supporters causing trouble with the Muggles. He didn't understand why Ginny was so upset that he was going to be away on his birthday and with an irritated goodbye, he Apparated out of the flat in the middle of their disagreement.

Ginny found it hard to remain agitated with the turn of events - though she found it just as easy to stay mad at Harry for his reaction - as she traveled to the United States for back to back matches. It was almost a passibly pleasant week without any communication between them, but upon her return home, he fell to his knees and pleaded for her forgiveness. She let him grovel a bit before she begrudgingly accepted his apology, which in turn led to several hours of make up sex and a repeated promise of him putting in more effort.

Everything in Harry's personal life returned to its usual unevenness.

There were good days wherein his time with Ginny was spent naked in bed; there were bad days where they argued over the stupidest misconceptions and one of them walked out of the room. And there were days that they didn't see each other at all until they found the other asleep in the middle of the night. The routine fit them just fine, even as Ginny spent longer hours on the pitch practicing. Even as Harry forced himself to visit Grimmauld Place to continue working on the dreadful flooring and carpet.

Ginny's birthday happened on a rainy day, and had it not fallen on a Saturday, she would have been able to do more than shower and fall asleep after a grueling eight and a half hour match against the Wigtown Wanderers. As it was, Harry sent Kreacher back to the flat to make her breakfast in bed the following morning.

He became so caught up with work as August rolled into September that Harry missed her match against the Kenmare Kestrels and her subsequent injury. Apparating to St. Mungos as soon as he got the owl, Harry was relieved to find her fast asleep and healing. After some prodding and promises to donate to the magical hospital, he woke Ginny up and transported her home for some proper rest. But she had scarcely fallen asleep in their own bed before Harry doubled the protective Charms and Flooed into the Ministry.

He had just begun the start of an investigation into a pair of Dark wizards who were suspected of illegal trading and Harry reasoned that Ginny would not miss his presence if she was sleeping. She would understand his desire to be the best and to work hard. It had been her idea after all to take on cases outside of the rogue Death Eaters the Aurors still chased.

And this case - Harry had the feeling that there was more going on than the illegal trading of the eggs of magical creatures, Goblin wrought objects, and cursed or Charmed weapons. There were too many coincidences of items coming into the country, then disappearing before they were properly inspected, only to reappear in a less harmless state. Harry had the first impression that it was a cover up operation for something more sinister, he just couldn't put his finger on what just yet.

Feeling less guilty about a couple of days of longer than normal hours at work because Ginny wouldn't have the energy to do anything anyways, Harry practically lived in his office. Ron had taken a few days off with Hermione and Neville had become less involved in general due to his waning desire to remain an Auror, eliminating that extra bit of nagging that Harry otherwise would have had.

He spent hours pouring over shipping invoices and parchments detailing the travel routes of objects that vanished before they reached their destinations. Wondering again and again how the Ministry had not picked up on the patterns that were so obvious to him.

After three days without a shower or a proper meal, Harry returned home relatively early on Tuesday evening and found Ginny waiting for him with a hot plate ready. He was slightly surprised at her energy but reasoned she had spent enough time recovering and in bed at this point.

"Sit down," Ginny told him sternly, a smile on her freckled face once she noticed his startled expression. "You're not going anywhere else until your stomach is properly full."

Not in the mood to argue over food, the Boy Who Lived removed his cloak, laid his wand on the table, and sat down in the chair she pulled out for him.

"Feeling better, are we?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"I woke up this morning and nearly forgot I had had bones regrown over the weekend," Ginny said lightly.

Harry watched as she wordlessly flicked her wand to send a glass of water and a set of utensils over to the table. His green eyes roamed over her curvy backside as she kept her back to him and he couldn't help but return her easy grin as she approached him with a bowl of steaming soup and a plate piled high with a golden brown pot pie. All of his worries melted away as the beautiful redheaded witch sashayed across the kitchen and placed the delicious smelling dishes in front of him.

"Chicken?" Harry quiered with interest.

Ginny nodded. "Your favorite," she added proudly.

Staring eagerly at the food before him that now had his stomach rumbling hungrily, Harry glanced sideways and proclaimed, "You're the best."

"I know," Ginny agreed cheekily and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead before she turned to fix her own plate.

Taking alternating bites of sweet smelling pumpkin soup and flaky chicken pot pie, Harry barely noticed that Ginny had sat down but was watching him instead of eating her own portions.

"You need to start eating regularly," she told him after two straight minutes of him shoveling his mouth full.

Harry looked up, his cheeks puffy with food and a pale orange dribble running off the corner of his lips.

"Mum would have a fit and a half if she saw how skin and bones you are now," Ginny explained as if this were the first time she had actually looked at him in awhile.

He swallowed thickly and replied. "I'm lean."

An auburn eyebrow arched coolly.

"You're not eating enough," she countered chidingly.

Harry gripped his spoon a bit tighter and hoped the metal biting into his fingers would distract him from becoming agitated.

"Maybe if we had dinner every once in awhile I wouldn't be so thin," Harry accused as he put a forceful bite of creamy chicken into his mouth.

He felt his skin prickle and his nerves jump to attention as Ginny folded her arms across her chest and exhaled slowly. There was a fight coming on, and Harry was ready for it. He should have honed in on the fading voice in his head telling him not to do it, but the roaring in his ears intensified and he stared levely at his fiance.

"You're more than welcome to cook yourself a meal. I'm not the only one capable of producing food," Ginny flatly said.

"When? When could I do that?" Harry asked almost impatiently.

"If you would bother to come home from work other than to sleep, maybe you could find time to feed yourself."

Harry felt the utter stress of work and his anger with the lack of Death Eaters caught bubble up with the heated emotions from her accusations. He saw the concern behind her mask of irritation but ignored it for the slights he could throw.

"Me? Since when are you home long enough to do more in the kitchen than make a cheese sandwich?" Harry laid down his spoon and crumbled his napkin next to his plate. "I don't have a whole lot of free time lying around either."

Shoving his chair backwards, he stood up and grabbed his bowl and plate with a jerk of his hands. Harry refused to meet her gaze as he sulked over to the sink and placed the dishes inside.

"You don't have a lot of free time?" Ginny repeated with slight incredulity, her tone leveling dangerously. "I went to Number Twelve today. It looked like you have been doing a lot more work. All of the paint, and the rest of the carpet gone. Things that would take a good amount of time to do."

"Why were you there?" Harry questioned neatly, focusing on that bit as he turned around to scowl at her still sitting calmly at the table.

"I had to meet with the new team Healer to be cleared for play," Ginny told him, uncrossing her arms and angling her upper body to face him better. "She wasn't in her office today and offered to come to me. It wasn't like I was going to have her come here."

Harry thought she would have scoffed after her insinuation if it would not have betrayed the unperturbed demeanor she was striving to keep up.

"What of it if I've been working on Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked, bypassing her response as if it was acceptable enough to not warrant a follow up question. "Didn't you say the renovations made the house so much more bearable? Haven't you been the one to encourage me and give me ideas on what to do from the day I moved in there? Did you think I would stop doing it when I moved out completely?"

"Harry -" Ginny said, exasperation creeping in to her words. "You never seemed to like living there. I told you to fix it up so that we could, maybe sell it one day." She paused, her eyes flickering away. "Or maybe leave it to our children someday. I don't know."

Harry's face twisted and he seemed almost offended.

"Sell it? You would want me to sell Grimmauld Place?" He was most definitely affronted that she would suggest such a thing. "I would rather destroy every floor from top to bottom and start from scratch than sell it."

"Okay - so what?" Ginny said, her rising temper finally making her voice higher. "Do you want me to the renovations? Do you want me to discard everything in the house that wasn't brought in by us or someone we know? Do you want me to find new furniture and decorate every room? What do you want me to do?"

His hands opened and closed out of habit at his sides. Steading his breathing, he took a heavy moment to remove his glasses and clean the lenses quickly, anything to keep from fidgeting more. Harry had never out right yelled at her before and he wasn't sure this was the argument to do it with.

"Yes," he said finally, the tightness of his lips giving away the smoothness with which he spoke. "Your help would be appreciated. Do whatever you feel necessary, you don't have to ask me."

Ginny's eyebrows rose higher than they had yet and she crossed her arms over her chest once more, another scoff barely held back.

"Do you want to move back there one day?" She asked slowly, and the kernel of hope in her voice made Harry hesitate to answer honestly.

He sighed wearily, one hand massaging his temples so that he had to look down and away from her gaze. That was not a conversation filler that he wanted to mention right then.

"I don't know, Gin," Harry told her.

Ginny rushed to reassure his indecisiveness. "We don't have -"

"I'm tired - I'm going to get in the shower, " he interrupted her, taking the steps to grab his wand off the table. "It's been a long few days." Harry stalled beside her, bending slightly to press a perfunctory kiss to the top of her red head, before he walked out of the kitchen without another word.

Only the twinkling stars were giving off light the next morning when Harry woke, the darkened sky keeping their bedroom in shadows as he silently slipped out of bed. The bathroom door shut with a near inaudible click behind him as he squeezed his green eyes shut quickly with the sudden bright light.

It was too early and he had not gotten nearly enough sleep the night before. Nightmares had not plagued him but he had not quite been able to fall into that necessary deep sleep, his mind lingering in the semi-conscious state of almost awake but almost asleep. He had played opossum when Ginny came to bed, and had almost joined her in the land of dreams, her even breathing like a gentle lull, yet the moment he felt himself falling into oblivion his hand twitched and he was wide awake again.

Ingrained in certain Muggle habits, Harry ran a brush through his thick black hair while sticking a toothpaste covered toothbrush into his mouth and scrubbing. The pink lightning bolt scar seemed to stick out against his abnormally pale skin and he quickly adjusted a few shaggy bits to cover it. Moments later, after spitting and rinsing his now minty fresh mouth, he dried his damp hands and flipped off the switch for the fluorescent lights, padding softly back into the bedroom as small snores came from the lumpy heap of blankets on the bed.

He was not temporarily blinded this time when he hit the lights in the closet, but still almost ran into the low cushioned bench in the middle of the spacious room as he turned around after closing the door. Harry _hmphed_ to himself when he noticed that Ginny had laid out her Quidditch clothes for the day, a spark of jealousy twisting his gut. Most days he thoroughly enjoyed his job as an Auror, but every once in a while he longed for the ease of hoping on a broom and playing. It certainly had been too long since he had had the pleasure of playing the best game in the world.

Pulling off his dirty clothes and adding them to the increasingly large pile in the corner, Harry stood naked for a moment as his eyes sought out the familiar deep purple robes and the accompanying slacks and button down shirt. Barely a minute later he was sliding his arms into the heavy plum sleeves and slipping his wand into the holster on his hip. The clock on the beige wall was almost striking six o'clock and he realized he would need to hurry if he wanted to avoid the crowds at his favorite coffee shop before going into the Ministry.

Pulling the door softly back into its frame as he left the bedroom, Harry made a beeline for the small table in the hallway where his wallet and a shrunken briefcase waited for him. Shoving both into a deep pocket of his robe, he grabbed his wand and visually swept the flat, recasting the protective Charms out of habit.

Satisfied that everything was in its place, Harry concentrated on his destination and disappeared with barely more than a pop, his mind and taste buds already anticipating the espresso he was more focused on.

* * *

 **6 September 2001**

The first day back at practice had been rough on her.

But it was nothing compared to the aches Ginny felt on her second day upon entering the Quidditch stadium. Coming back from an injury was harder on her body than she had anticipated. Staying bent over her broom caused the muscles on her right side to cramp up faster than normal but Ginny did some quick stretches every time she got back on the ground and by noon, she felt ready for the first of several scrimmages.

She was still burning inside from her disagreement with Harry two nights before. It fueled her to keep pushing herself harder until she forgot about why she was mad as the elation of flight overcame her.

The wind whipping the loose strands of flaming hair into her face, her robes flapping wildly against her legs, the broom firm and steady between her legs and in her hands - it distracted her from the jerking of her stomach when she remembered how upset Harry had gotten over her suggestions. Ginny didn't want to rationalize his behavior and blame it on the stress of work. She knew Harry was better than his emotions. He was an adult now and could no longer use the excuses of not knowing or not taking the blame for himself.

Her thoughts rose with her as Ginny drifted through the air, waiting for her teammates to get to their positions on both ends of the pitch. This was the fourth practice match they were having that afternoon and surprisingly, her body felt more alive than it had since her last match five days ago. The players acting as the other team were wearing hot pink mesh bibs to imitate the uniforms of their opponents in their upcoming match, the Quiberon Quafflepunchers. Not one to simply be discouraged by the name of her opposition, Ginny had to admit that the stories of this unknown, at least to her, French team were enough to make her cautious so soon after her injury.

By the time their rigid coach, Jaimeson Beall, blew his whistle to signal the end of a very long practice, the sun was setting behind the high rising stands of the pitch.

"We only have two days left to be ready for the Punchers," he bellowed, his voice crisp and loud despite yelling at the witches for hours on end. "Everyone be back here tomorrow by eight AM sharp." There was a smattering of groans from the exhausted team and the grey haired wizard glowered at his players. "Anyone who is even a second late will have to do twenty laps around the pitch before they start the warm up. Twenty laps running - no brooms."

A second, softer round of groans.

"Another sound about it and everyone will run laps anyways."

That quieted the team but did not the erase the sour looks off some of their faces.

"Go home," Beall told the women, stuffing his chrome clipboard underneath his arm. "Eat a big meal. Go to bed early." His tone softened very minorly. "We have a big weekend ahead of us, ladies. Everyone needs to be ready for it."

There was a pause as he seemed to take each of them in. "You're dismissed. Remember - eight o'clock. Weasley, stay back, I need a word with you."

Some of the other witches glanced at her but en masse the Harpies turned around and headed for the locker room to shower and change. The high pitched laughter and buzz of chatter grew softer until Ginny knew the team was well inside the much cooler building, doubling her nerves as if she were a student in trouble at Hogwarts again. Holding her broom behind her back, she walked out to the middle of the oval field where Coach Beall was securing the locks on the large equipment trunk.

"Yes Coach?" Ginny said to the wizard's back.

"Weasley, there's going to be a change of plans for you for this match," he said as he stood up and straightened his robes.

"Coach I feel fine -" Ginny pleaded. "The team Healer cleared me and so did the trainers. Please don't sit me out."

"I'm not," he said flatly.

"You're not?"

"No. I'm moving you to Seeker against the Punchers."

If she would have allowed it, Ginny's chin would have hit the grass.

"You might be the best Chaser we have," the sixty-something wizard explained cleanly without a trace of bias. "With Jones out, and Garrett and her fumbling hands the past few matches - well, it is agreed that you deserve an opportunity to show us what you can do. It's the best thing we can do to keep you out of harm's way while you're still a bit - tender."

Ginny didn't know how to express the swell of exuberance that was filling her chest. Her gratitude would have to suffice.

"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. I won't let you down."

Coach Beall nodded stiffly, apparently still unused to a woman's display of emotion.

"You'll be in the air with Garrett and the Seeking coach tomorrow," Beall appraised her with a sharp eye. "We know you're fast - now show how quickly you can catch the Snitch."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," Ginny repeated, biting down on her lower lip to keep a smile from forming just yet.

"Dismissed," Coach Beall told her and without another word, he levitated the trunk off the ground and had it follow him inside the building.

A grin tore across her face as she remained standing in the middle of the pitch. Ginny was measures beyond words and that was saying something. She had never truly thought that she was a good enough Seeker to play the position professionally. She was an absolute phenom as Chaser and in the two seasons she had been with the Harpies, there was plenty more than a fistful of games she had helped to win by racking up points early on.

But to usurp the mighty Gwenog Jones as Seeker?

 _That_ thought never crossed her mind.

Ginny knew that she was only playing at Seeker now because Gwenog was off with the Welsh National team for the time being.

And it was smarter - with her being the best Chaser they had she thought with a squeal of giddiness - for her to be up and out of the way, only searching for the Snitch instead of hurtling the Quaffle the whole time. Much safer if they did indeed think she was a standout player on the team and intended to keep her around for several more years.

Elated as she hadn't been in longer than she realized, Ginny propped her broom against her shoulder and began walking the way everyone else had gone. She just needed a quick, hot shower and a fresh set of clothes, and she could Apparate home to tell Harry the amazing news. If he was up for it, maybe they would pop out for a bite to eat. Or stay in to eat in bed…

By the time she popped out of existence in front of the Quidditch stadium and reappeared just inside the front door of their flat, Ginny had decided to lay out both options for Harry. Let him pick.

Maybe he would want food more than sexy time - hangry was a real thing after all.

But as she took off her robes and laid out the contents of her pockets on the kitchen counter, Ginny came to the definite realization that she was home alone. Harry was not there, once again.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise - not really. But for a few fleeting minutes, Ginny had naturally thought that her fiance would be at home by now, eager to trade stories about their days, and cuddle up on the balcony underneath the stars. Not cooped up in his cubicle in the horribly lit Auror's offices until all hours of the night.

Retrieving a half eaten gallon of peppermint chocolate chip ice cream, Ginny sat on the plush couch in the living room and curled her feet beneath her as she celebrated and consoled herself with the large spoon. It was times like this that she wished for an animal, a pet to come home to - someone that would be eager to see her after a long day.

At some point she must have fallen asleep because she jolted up when the spoon clattered to the hardwood floor. Ginny sat up and looked around, glancing at the small bit of melted ice cream left in the container in her lap. Securing the lid and picking up the fallen utensil, she got up, threw away the rest of the once cold dessert, and put the spoon in the sink to be cleaned.

The clock told her it was just past midnight, but still there was no sign of Harry. Giving up on her desire to share her good news as a yawned spread her mouth wide, Ginny grabbed her wand off the couch and headed for the bedroom. Sleep was more important for her exhausted body than waiting up for the wizard who may not be home for awhile still. Stripping down and climbing underneath the heaps of floofy blankets, Ginny laid down and was almost instantly asleep as soon as her red head hit the pillow.

Harry was not there the next morning either when she got up early to try to see him before he left for work. There was evidence that he had come home at some point though, as Ginny noticed the faint scent of recently brewed coffee and a used mug sitting in the sink next to her ice cream crusted spoon. Frustration churned her insides and Ginny found herself huffing and puffing to the silent flat as she took her time getting ready for the day, unconsciously straightening up as she went.

After the seemingly shortest of all day practices, Ginny was once more bouncing with energy when she returned home that Friday evening. She did not expect Harry to be there this time and happily set about making her usual pre-game dinner of creamy pasta and buttery bread. Her empty stomach was more than ready to be filled up but as she kept tasting the pasta, the sauce, and the added chicken along the way, she was hardly wanting the giant bowl of food that she had decided to eat when she started cooking the meal.

Placing a heating Charm on the large Dutch oven set on the stovetop, Ginny laid out a plate and silverware on the off chance that Harry would be home soon enough to eat. Dimming the lights in the kitchen as she walked out, she had the deep bathtub in the spacious master bath filling with soapy water before she stood naked next to it. Tentatively dipping a toe through the layers of colorful bubbles, Ginny slid into the porcelain tub with a sigh and errantly thought about the last time she had used it, and the ensuing clean up after Harry had decided to join her. There was no such pleasure that night but all the same, she felt infinitely more relaxed and her muscles were significantly loosened almost an hour later when she carefully stepped back out of the bath.

Nerves were setting in for her first professional appearance as Seeker the next evening. What if she fell off her broom when she was reaching for the Snitch? What if the Punchers were strategizing to take her out early in the game, putting the Harpies down by one player? What if she couldn't even _find_ the Snitch?

Ginny felt the burning desire to lay out her worries for Harry, ask him for playing advice, and listen to him generalize to her that everything would be alright. He had been able to reassure her any time she needed it, always ready with a bit of comfort and a hug to make her feel better. She supposed he couldn't always be there when she needed him, but a burst of anger whispered to her that Harry would be there now if he had bothered to come home and find out that she was playing his old position in this match.

Getting dressed in her night clothes, Ginny retrieved her shrunken broom from her robes, found her polishing kit, and set about cleaning up her flying instrument at the dining room table. As she cleaned the bristles and slid the cloth up and down the wooden handle, the repetitive motions cleared her mind of worry and focused her on the maneuvers most likely to help her catch the Snitch. By the time her broom looked almost new, her freckled hands were stiff and her eyes were dry and drooping shut.

The king size bed looked like an oasis as she crawled underneath the cool sheets and the darkness was a reprieve from her thoughts as she fell into sleep, images of chasing that fluttering golden ball following her into her dreams.

Sometime during the night she awoke hazily as she felt the bed dip under Harry's weight. Ginny pushed the tangled sheets off her chest and rolled over to watch him through half lidded eyes. He smiled slightly when he noticed she was awake but said nothing, placing his glasses on the nightstand,laying down, and pulling the comforter up his bare chest. Harry laid an arm out across the pillow between them and Ginny took the invitation, wiggling closer until she was curled up against his side and his arm was wrapped around her shoulders. His even breathing lulled her back to sleep and she felt his lips press lightly against her forehead before she fell off into unconsciousness once more, a smile lifting her lips.

Ginny thought maybe she had dreamed it the night before, because as usual Harry was gone for work by the time she woke up. There was hardly a moment to worry over it though as she jumped out of bed and began fretting over the match that evening.

She was needed at the stadium earlier than the rest of the team to go over strategy with the coaches, before they were to take a Portkey to France in the early afternoon. Ginny practically threw on her practice uniform when she noticed that it was half seven already and nearly forgot to shrink and put her broom in her pocket as she rushed to get out the door. Slowing down to double check that she had everything, Ginny stepped into the fireplace, threw the green Floo powder at her feet, and shouted the name of the Harpies stadium.

Ready or not, she was flying towards her first appearance as Seeker in a few short hours time.

Indeed, the day went by so quickly that Ginny was almost hesitant to comply when Coach Beall made the announcement that the team needed to be ready in fifteen minutes or they would be left behind. The ultimate sense of nervous urgency gripped her stomach and twisted it, causing her palms to sweat and her heart to stammer unevenly in her chest.

"You'll do jus' fine," Valmai Morgan, one of her fellow Chasers, stated cheerfully and clasped a hand on her shoulder. "Don't even think about what you're doing."

"Yea, yea," Ginny responded with an anxious twitter and a nervous twitching of her hands.

"And if ya don't catch tha Snitch," the other Chaser, Wilda Griffiths, started with a wide smirk as she put a hand on Ginny's other shoulder and squeezed, "Ya can always try ta earn yer Chasing spot back from one oh us."

"I think it'd be the two of you fighting for the second spot," Ginny retorted with a laugh, and a marginal slice of her nerves faded away.

"Alright!" Coach Beall hollered over the low roar coming from the assembled witches. "Circle up!" He watched his players move to huddle around him and satisfied they were all within arm's length, he removed a long, thin object from inside his robes and held it out so they all could see it. "The Portkey is going to activate in one minute - everyone get a finger on it and be ready to leave."

An eyebrow arched slightly at the sight of the Muggle umbrella innocuously waiting to become the Quidditch team's means of travel. Ginny shrugged absently and glanced at her fellow Chasers with a grim face, hoping no one noticed that the finger she placed on the folded plastic canopy was glittering with sweat.

The din of chatter grew silent until Ginny could pick out every person's breathing pattern as they remained crowded together, waiting patiently for the familiar naval pull of the Portkey.

"Don't worry," Griffiths whispered reassuringly next to her. "Ya'll do great."

"I sure hope so," Ginny agreed with a stiff chuckle.

Lips still parted to lament about how angry Gwenog would be if they lost because she couldn't catch the Snitch, she hesitated in the split second it took for the umbrella to glow brightly and begin humming gently. Ginny inhaled sharply and pressed her eyes shut as the invisible hook yanked on her belly button and they all disappeared with a flash.

.

.

.

 **A/N:**

Yes, Neville was an Auror for a few years before he gave it up and became the Herbology professor at Hogwarts. harrypotter dot wikia dot com /wiki/Neville_Longbottom


	5. The Nitty Gritty

**NSFW**

 **NSFW**

 **I REPEAT - NSFW**

 **9 September 2001**

Nearly twenty four hours had passed since the event that Ginny now thought of as the most thrilling occurrence of her life.

She had caught the Snitch.

Just after the three hour mark of the game and as the whipping cold winds had turned even more bitter, she had seen the Snitch fluttering near the announcers box and flew for it. The other Seeker had been closer to it at the time but he had missed the flash of gold, mistaking it for a camera, and glanced the other way. Knowing she had to at least investigate the bright spot, Ginny turned slightly then sped off when the Snitch seemed to pause for her.

The seconds slowed down and blurred by at once, her gaze intent only on the golden ball. Ascending and dipping left then diving as she drew closer, Ginny held on firmly to her broom with one hand and reached out with the other. She felt the rapidly beating wings a hair's breadth before her fingers closed around the tiny sphere.

And then, the stadium exploded around her. The sight of the other players, the sounds of the thousands of fans, the shouting of the amplified commentator - everything broke through the bubble Ginny had entered when she spotted the Snitch.

A grin spread her mouth into a cartoon like version of her usual smile and she gripped the handle of her broom tightly as she took off on a victory lap around the pitch, her closed fist raised in celebration and her throat quickly going raw from screaming. Witches in emerald robes flew at her, her teammates congratulating her with yells of their own or light, passing touches on the back as they went by. The Quafflepunchers were already on the ground dismounting their brooms and the young referee was circling below them as he _Accio_ ed the other three balls to him.

As one the Harpies descended to the pitch amid shouting, foot stomping, and general noise making from the stands. Ginny glanced quickly but it was not hard to spot the blot of redheads sitting on the front row in one of the center field boxes. The other witches were still congratulating her and she murmured thanks but she began walking towards the side of the pitch where her family was soon to be pouring out, her broom clutched in one hand and the Snitch still in the other.

Bill was the first one out of the tunnel and onto the field, followed quickly by a hooting George, an ecstatic Ron and Hermione, Fleur holding a bundled up Victoire with earmuffs on, and lastly, her estatic parents. Swept up into an enormous hug from Bill, Ginny laughed mercilessly and dropped her broom to the ground as he swung her around. She was still reeling from her game winning catch, thanking her family for their congratulations, when her eyes flitted over the last person joining their small mob, and she did a double take.

"Harry!" Ginny screamed, wiggling out of Bill's embrace and darting toward her fiancée. "You came!"

"Of course," he said with mock incredulity and wrapped his arms around her as Ginny almost threw herself at him. "I couldn't miss you playing Seeker."

"But how -" she began, a question in her eyes and voice as she leaned back to meet his emerald gaze.

"Ron mentioned it," Harry answered a bit more quietly, his eyes darting to the waiting Weasleys as if he didn't want them to realize that he hadn't known about Ginny's change of position for the match. "You should've told me, Gin. It wouldn't matter if we were upset with each other - I would be here to support you, rain or shine."

Tears welled in her chocolate eyes.

"Oh Harry," she exclaimed wobbily and smashed her mouth against his, their lips together forming a barrier against the crowd around them.

"Alright, alright," Ron said with a cough, the embarrassment plain in his voice.

Ginny and Harry parted with matching smirks on their faces and she saw predictable looks as she glanced around her family.

"Oi! Weasley!" A female shouted across the empty pitch.

Ginny glanced back to see a faceless teammate waiting for her near the far goal posts, an arm waving and pointing in the direction of the locker rooms.

"I gotta go," she apologized, but her grin remained wide. "Thank you everyone for coming to the game."

A chorus of _Of course_ , and _We wouldn't have missed it_ , and a cheeky _We'll take tickets to every match_ from George, spoke at the same time, but it was Harry that Ginny looked to as she angled herself to walk away.

"I'm glad you could make it," she said and the bespectacled wizard nodded in response as if she were talking to him alone.

"Should we all meet back at Grimmauld Place?" Ginny asked of the group as she came out of her reverie, glancing at everyone else. "Have a celebratory night cap?"

"As long as you have the alcohol," Bill quipped and they all chuckled, remembering the time that Ron had expected everyone to bring their own refreshments to the Christmas party he hosted.

"I told you, Seamus was supposed to bring the Firewhiskey," Ron supplied hastily, ire bringing color to his cheeks.

"Maybe don't tell the Irishman to bring the alcohol next time," George said merrily, a barking laugh following his remark, and Hermione had to press a hand into Ron's chest to keep him from lunging at his brother.

"Be there in half hour, yea?" Ginny rhetorically questioned of the group and she saw a general nodding consensus.

Meeting Harry's eyes, she shot forward, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and pressed a hard kiss to his already parted lips.

"I love you," she whispered against his mouth.

"I love you," Harry repeated.

Ginny came away with her cheeks flushed and a bounce in her step, finally moving to leave as her parents beamed at her and Harry glanced at his watch.

"I'll see you all there!" She told her family and trotted off to join Morgan who had waited on her, the Snitch still gripped tightly in her right hand.

After a too late night of drinking and with vague recollections of attempted sloppy sex, Ginny was unsurprised to find herself so disheveled the next morning. Only her engagement ring was still left on her body and she grinned happily as she stretched her limbs across the empty bed. Any stiffness that might have remained from her injury or from the game seemed to have worked themselves out, for which Ginny was immensely grateful as she realized she had not gotten as much sleep as she needed to even though it was a couple of hours later than she normally woke up.

Suddenly there was a loud noise from the kitchen as something metal fell to the floor and she suppressed a laugh as she heard Harry swear.

He was not necessarily an aficionado when it came to cooking but it made her warm inside to think that he would attempt to whip something up for her. Though he was certain to be famished as well. Her stomach definitely was, as it chose that moment to bubble and growl hungrily.

Giving her back one last twist, Ginny yanked the covers off, sat up, and threw her feet over the side of the bed. The cooler air outside the warm sheets hardened her soft nipples to peaks and she ran her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to get rid of the goose flesh as she hurried to the closet. Flicking on the lights Ginny reached for the first long sleeved item she could find and hastily pulled the thin sweatshirt over her head. The hood fell around her neck and warmed it considerably, and the sleeves hung just long enough for her hands to ball up with the ends tucked inside. Perfect.

Finding a pair of sweatpants seemed to be a more difficult task since she tended to wear Harry's, and a majority of his clothing was sitting in a dirty pile. A pair of her own tighter sweatpants would have to suffice.

Ginny scanned the closet until she located a pair of black cotton pants hanging next to some faded jeans. Once she pulled them off the hanger, a grin stretched her face wide when she realized they were the old school pair that said _Gryffindor_ down one pant leg. The red lettering had lost some color and the drawstrings had gotten stuck inside the waistband, but otherwise they fit and looked just as they did on the day she had gotten them.

Hearing the distant echo of another piece of cookware hitting the floor, Ginny hurried into the loo, pausing only to pull her thick mane of red hair into a messy bun on top of her head, before grabbing her wand on her way out of the bedroom.

"What are you up to in here?" She asked of his back as she approached his work space on the far side of the kitchen.

"Good morning," Harry replied with a grin, glancing over his shoulder as she came up next to him, and he craned his head to kiss her lips.

"Good morning," Ginny repeated as one hand curled around the back of his neck.

She glanced down at the large silver bowl and the lumpy beige mixture he was feebly whisking.

"Pancakes?" She inquired, noticing the large frying pan with a pad of melting butter on the stove top.

"If I can get this batter to cooperate, yes, these will become pancakes," Harry said.

"Here - let me," Ginny told him with a happy smile and she removed her arm to reach for the bowl and whisk.

In less than a minute the batter was the correct consistency. Giving him a knowing look, she reached for the tiny ladle and moved to stand in front of the stove. With the butter melted and covering the pan in an even glaze, Ginny poured four small pancakes into circles, watching as they sizzled.

"Bacon?" She asked and looked to Harry, putting the bowl back on the counter as her hands floated near her sides.

He motioned towards the oven in front of her with a finger and grabbed the mit on the counter, opening the steel door a crack so that a waft of greasy goodness floated out.

"Almost done."

"You know me too well, Mr. Potter," Ginny cooed with another glance.

"I believe it was you who called this, and I quote, "the breakfast of champions," Mrs. Potter," Harry countered easily.

The name caught her off guard but it widened her grin further still as her heart did a quick pitter patter. Harry dropped the oven mit on the counter and moved to stand directly behind her with his hands possessively cupping her hips. A different kind of thrill ran along her nerve endings and out of habit Ginny pressed her bottom backwards, leaning against him as his hands moved to lay over her hip bones.

Harry nuzzled the hair off her neck, nipping at the exposed skin above the collar of her sweatshirt.

"You look good enough to eat, Gin," Harry whispered against the side of her throat, his voice rough and needy.

"You're not looking so bad either," Ginny replied breathlessly.

"Maybe the pancakes can wait," he said and he pulled her hips backwards into his.

She turned around as his arms formed a cage on either side of her and she gave in to the temptation to run her fingers through his hair, up the back of his head.

"Maybe they should," Ginny agreed, her voice deepening with desire.

They leaned in at the exact same moment, their heads tilting in opposite directions until their lips were a scant millimeter apart. Her lungs expanded and their bodies seemed to press more tightly together.

Then, Ginny's stomach growled so loudly that Harry could cleanly feel the vibrations in his chest.

The moment was broken. She hesitated for a long second, a sheepish grin curving her relaxed expression, then laughed lightly at the the interruption and clear sign that the pancakes could not wait.

Harry pulled back enough to meet her now steady gaze.

"We can make it quick," Ginny said.

"I certainly hope not," Harry rebutted with a twinkle in his eyes.

Ginny laughed again and she absently rubbed the back of his head as she responded. "I meant the pancakes." Another tinkling laugh crossed her lips but one eyebrow arched as she added, "But that doesn't have to be too."

It was Harry's turn to chuckle before he captured Ginny's mouth with a quick but hard kiss.

"Agreed," he said and the hand that had snaked around to the small of her back was suddenly squeezing an ass cheek.

Ginny swatted at his chest but Harry was quicker and he ducked out of the way as their laughter rang out together.

It only took a few flicks of her wand to have the pancakes flipping themselves, the tray of bacon floating out of the oven, and the the jug of syrup levitating out of the fridge. Harry copied her motions and soon plates and napkins and silverware were hovering to the kitchen table before arranging themselves neatly.

"Juice or coffee?" Harry asked as the coffee pot lifted off its heating pad to refill his mug.

Ginny smiled but gave him a you-should-know-better look and gestured to the cabinets where the clean coffee cups were stored, one hand holding a plate as the pancakes floated out of the frying pan.

"Coffee with almond milk please," she requested.

Harry flicked his wand to complete her usual order of caffeine as the pancake plate drifted through the kitchen to land between the two place settings on the table. Ginny levitated the platter of bacon and a small dish of butter over as well before moving to take a seat after glancing around to make sure they weren't missing anything.

"This looks delicious," Ginny told Harry once he sat down and joined her.

"I have to say, I am impressed with myself," the Boy Who Lived responded. "I didn't burn the bacon this time."

Ginny giggled and picked up her fork, stabbing at a pair of pancakes while the syrup hovered expectantly near her cup of coffee. Harry took a bite of a greasy piece of bacon while placing two more on his plate and the remaining pancakes floated next to them as he picked up his knife and reached for the butter. The rounded syrup bottle tilted sideways and poured the thick liquid atop the golden brown discs until both plates were ringed with the sugary fluid.

There was a suitable silence as forks cut away slices of fluffy pancakes and bacon was ripped in two. Their eyes met amidst the thick chewing and Ginny grinned, her cheeks puffy with food, at the dribble of syrup glistening at the corner of Harry's mouth.

"Yer gawrt -" she said, still with a mouth full, and motioned largely to his face.

"What?" Harry responded with a chuckle, his fork held in midair.

"Rih -" Ginny swallowed and took a sip of her coffee before clarifying. "You have some - on your mouth -"

"Where?" He wiped at his cheeks and nose but missed the dab of syrup with each swipe.

Leaning forward in her chair, Ginny reached across the table and slowly swept her thumb along the outer curve of Harry's mouth, bringing the finger back to her lips and licking it suggestively.

"Got it," Ginny said matter of factly.

"What about this bit here?" Harry asked as he dipped an index finger into the thick liquid on his plate and held it up for her to see.

With her lips casually pressed together, Ginny grinned and leaned farther forward, her hand reaching for his wrist as he extended it to her. She met his gaze and held it unblinkingly as her tongue traced the syrup then languidly licked it off.

Ginny sat back in her chair and ever so casually trailed a finger through the buttery syrup amidst her own plate of half eaten pancakes. She raised it to her mouth and slid it inside, her lips puckering around the pale digit as she cleaned the mixture off with methodical motion, her legs stretching towards him.

"Christ - you're so beautiful, Gin," Harry breathed, and there was a longing in his tone that she had not heard so desperate in several years. A beat passed where he stared at her and she grinned lazily at him. "I've missed you so much," he added in an almost pained whisper, his eyes hungry.

"I've missed you," Ginny said, each word enunciated softly.

But her lips had barely closed before Harry had pushed his chair back and jumped to his feet, his deft hands quickly reaching for her. He was bent at the waist and pulling her to a standing position as she let instinct take over and followed the momentum to her feet. Her arms wrapped around his waist and his fingers slid around her neck to angle her head up as his mouth came crashing down on her parted lips.

There was nothing slow or calculated about the way Harry and Ginny kissed; their hands were soon roaming and there was but half a second for air where she moaned heavily before he was capturing her lips once more. Ginny took a step backwards and when she hit the table, she sat on the edge and pulled Harry into the vacated space between her legs. His hands went to the small of her back and pressed in, willing her further forward still as she arched her back and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck.

A slight flick of his wrist and the dishes vanished off the table. Clear of any food and anything that could poke her, Ginny hopped up and scooted back, pulling Harry with her so that he was leaning into her.

"So beautiful," Harry said against the column of her throat as he nipped at the taut skin.

Ginny hummed with a smile on her upturned face, her chocolate eyes shut blissfully.

"All mine," he whispered as he moved up to the shell of her ear, lightly biting the fat lobe as she shivered.

"Yours," Ginny agreed, her mind going hazy as the apex of her thighs tingled wantonly.

"You're mine," Harry repeated greedily.

Ginny inhaled sharply when she felt his lips pull on the skin just below the hinge of her jaw, and she started wiggling when his teeth nipped hard enough to bruise.

"Harry," she said, louder than intended but still with the desired effect.

Her hands latched onto either side of his face again and with a shaky exhale, she leaned in to lightly kiss his lips, repeating the gentle action until they were heatedly pressing their mouths together again.

When his hands found her hips once more, Harry tugged her forward until she was on her feet and the length of their bodies were touching at every point they could. Feeling the hardened cock in his pants compressed against her stomach, Ginny moaned through their kiss and flattened herself further against him.

"Oh Gin," Harry groaned as he swept his lips up her jawline and pecked at the other earlobe.

Ginny whimpered and she was certain that her rigid nipples would break through the thin material of her sweatshirt at any moment.

It caught her off guard but in the most pleasant way when Harry pulled back for a split second before he forcibly turned her around and pushed her shoulders down against the table. Ginny leaned forward on her elbows and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes hooded and a lazy grin spreading her lips. Harry pressed his hips into the curve of her ass and ran his hands up the length of her back, pushing the heather grey sweatshirt up to expose her bare back.

His fingers wrote a trail of hot lines across the naked skin as they skimmed the length of her spine, a shiver possessing her as he slid them underneath her sides to tickle her stomach. When his thumbs pressed into the indentations on the small of her back, Ginny arched and instinctively spread her feet wider.

One hand moved away from her heated skin while the other rested on the bump of her ass and it was with little shock that she felt her sweatpants, and Harry's, disappear. Fingers slipped between her thighs and slid up until they found her wet center, one roughened pad splitting her slick lips and easily slipping through the outer barrier. There was a squealching sound as he played with her nether region and Ginny had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out at the desired touch.

"So wet," Harry moaned as he pressed two fingers into her tight canal. "So wet for me."

Ginny did not restrain herself this time, crying out pleasurably as her hips bucked.

"That's it," Harry growled, his fingers increasing their pumping.

"Ooohhhh my - oooohhh Harry," Ginny trilled as she moved her hips from side to side, hoping to create the friction she needed.

But his fingers were removed from inside her and she _hmph_ ed impatiently as she stuck her ass out further. There was nary a second for Ginny to start to turn her head around, before she was engulfed by the sensation of his cockhead touching her sensitive lips. Then Harry was sliding all of the way inside her.

The fronts of his thighs caressed the backs of her legs for a long moment as she adjusted to his average length and he quelled the overwhelming sensation of her tightness around him.

"Oh my God," Harry groaned.

His hands gripped her hips and with experience as her only guide, Ginny braced herself for the immediate thrusting that would begin after that long, initial moment. Instinct told her right and with her hands flattened on the table for support, she nudged backwards into the momentum as Harry pushed in then neatly pulled out.

In and out.

In and out.

Ginny felt a surge of renewed desire that had faded when Harry had removed his fingers, and she shoved her ass back further still as her hands pressed into the table hard enough that they should have left impressions. But even her basic hunger for the climax that had almost just been was not enough to speed up her libido as she felt Harry's momentum increase. He was getting closer much quicker than she was and it was a dangerous line to walk - to contract her inner muscles knowing the impact it would have on them both - to attempt to obtain her finish when he would climax in the process.

But Ginny needn't have spared the seconds to consider how she could achieve her happy ending too.

Harry vigorously pumped once, twice, three times - before he paused for a heartbeat with his cock halfway inside her, and thrusted anew until his crescendo jerked his hips in quick spasms and his fingers dug into her soft skin.

He made a noise that was a garbled mixture of primal completion, a content sigh, and self satisfaction as his motion slowed before coming to a stop entirely. Harry Potter had cum. And none too silently.

Ginny felt, rather than heard, the contraceptive Charm placed on her but it was only the removal of Harry's softening cock that brought on the full effect of the tingling magic. With his hands still holding her hips lightly, he covered her body with his own and pressed his lips against her spine in the middle of her shoulder blades, the gentle kiss hardly reflective of how he had just handled her.

"Gin, that was bloody fantastic," Harry said, a slight bit out of breath. "You're just - the absolute best."

She could feel him step away from her, but it was not the absence of his heat that caused Ginny to shiver suddenly. Her body was aching with need and her only access to a good fuck was about to put on his pants and hang up the closed sign. A gentle rustle sounded near her elbow, and she looked to the end of the table where her black sweatpants had just reappeared.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Ginny retorted, and any contempt she thought was laced into the words fell on deaf ears as Harry stepped into his pants with a self satisfied grin.

He looked up as Ginny flopped back into her chair with the grace of a garden gnome, her own bare feet lifting to be shoved into her sweatpants. Once she had stood to pull them up over her naked ass, Harry cupped a hand around her elbow, leaned in, and kissed her chastely.

"I always enjoy you, Gin," he said with duel meaning.

She smiled tight lipped, somehow turned on again by her ability to blatantly arouse him. When he was in a proper mood at least.

Sighing heavily Harry strode to the refrigerator and pulled out a cold bottle of water. He gulped half of it down before Ginny could slid her wand back into her pocket and she thought that it seemed rehearsed when he glanced at the clock and jerked slightly.

"I'm sorry, Gin, but I have to go," Harry said to no surprise at all.

"What? I thought you had the whole day off," Ginny complained, though she wasn't half as mad as her words sounded.

Harry glanced to her with what she assumed was an apologetic expression, his eyes darting to the clock once more.

"I was supposed to -" he began as he sealed the cap back on the water bottle and tossed the empty container in the trash. "But I took half the day off yesterday for your Quidditch match when I was supposed to be getting my report ready for tomorrow's briefing."

"Are you going to be back tonight when Charlie gets here? Will you be here for dinner?"

Harry wordlessly flourished his wand and the dirty breakfast plates reappeared next to the sink. He sheepishly looked away and made quick work of rinsing the food away and placing them in the now open dishwasher.

"I should be," he said with his back still turned. "But Robards has asked to hear my report ahead of time. I wouldn't be surprised if he kept me late going over the details."

"The details of what?" Ginny asked more harshly than she meant to, but her recent memories did not relay any mention of whatever case he was currently working on. "What are you looking into?"

"Just some Dark wizards doing some illegal trading," Harry told her vaguely, drying his hands on a small towel and turning back to her with a pacifying smile in place.

"Trading?" Ginny rhetorically questioned, her eyebrows inching up her forehead. "Isn't that something more suited for the - Department of International Magical Cooperation or the Confiscation of Protective Objects Department, or whichever? Someone who knows the trade laws or the international regulations?"

Appearing as if he did not have the time, or the patience, to explain why he was handling a case not normally suited for a prominent Auror, Harry strode across the kitchen to stand in front of her and gripped her elbows lightly as she rested her hands against his stomach.

"Typically, yes - but a former Death Eater tipped us off to an emerging underground trade ring and Robards himself asked me to look into it."

Ginny was not entirely satisfied with his explanation but did not press him for any more information when she was still in a sour mood from her anti climax.

"I'll try to be home as soon as I can," Harry reassured her, even kissing her cheek and wrapping his arms around her in a hug before he returned to holding her at arm's length. "Okay?" He questioned, but the tone of the single word left no room for argument.

Ginny nodded mutely.

Harry half smiled, distracted again by the clock, and stepped away from her. He had moved out of the kitchen on silent feet before she could sigh heavily enough to be heard. Glancing to the dirty pans still laying on the stove, she busied herself with manually cleaning them, then loading them into the washer and pressing the easily labeled buttons to start the Muggle machine.

She was leaning against the sink, her arms folded across her chest and her gaze unfocused, when Harry zoomed back into the kitchen, a slightly wrinkled button down shirt and trousers having replaced his comfortable clothing. His deep purple Auror robes were thrown over his shoulder and the messiness of his disheveled hair would have been endearing enough for her to brush it into place if he were not actively avoiding meeting her eyes.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Harry reiterated with a tight smile, his bespectacled gaze focusing on her hairline.

"We'll be here," Ginny said flatly, her arms remaining locked around her midsection.

Finally, Harry dared a direct look into her brown eyes. He seemed to hesitate for a moment but moved forward and quickly kissed her cheek again.

"I'm sorry, Gin - I swear I'll try to make it back for dinner."

Ginny nodded but said nothing else.

"I love you," Harry told her with the hope of eliciting a response.

"Love you too," Ginny replied automatically, and a slight guilt for her coldness pushed the corners of her lips up in a tiny smile.

It was good enough for Harry, and he returned the hesitant expression as he angled his body to leave.

"See you later," he told her with a friendly nod, and then he was gone.

The faded crackling of the fireplace in the next room was the only indication that he had left and Ginny waited for the faint noises to die completely before she unfolded her arms and exited the kitchen too.

Charlie had not given a specific time for his arrival but Ginny assumed it would be enough before dinner that she should prepare a plate of hors d'oeuvres as well. For once she was actually glad for the lack of food in the cupboards and the need to leave the house to pick up the necessary ingredients. Usually if she was the one to go food shopping, she ended up coming home with more impulse buys than items off the list that she so diligently tried to stick to. But she was more of a stickler on this trip to the Muggle bakery and grocery store and only left with an extra tub of ice cream, a box of cookies, and a generous helping of her favorite white cheddar cheese.

Glad for the almost two hours out of the near silent flat, Ginny hauled the bags up the flights of stairs and waved merrily to a neighbor as she deftly unlocked the door without her key. Ingredients and recipe directions flitting through her mind, she set about putting the food away while the necessary cookware floated out of cabinets and drawers. By the time she put the last bag of crisps in the pantry, every utensil and bowl was lined up on the island center based on their use within the different recipes.

Ginny debated on showering before she began cooking but decided against it once she thought about how she was likely to have food splattered on her. Instead, she rolled up her sleeves, retrieved her wand, and set her mouth into a determined expression as she started the afternoon long process of preparing dinner.

The minutes raced by as she boiled water, then oil, and in no time at all, a plate of steaming Scotch eggs sat off to the side, a Warming Charm keeping the dish at the perfect temperature. Ginny moved on to the first steps of the next recipe and she took more pleasure than she would admit in pounding the chicken breasts flat for the main course. The oven was preheated minutes before the stuffed chicken was finished but she waited until the potato casserole had been wrapped in tin foil before she put both the pan and the spuds inside.

Setting a timer for the oven while the dirty dishes began cleaning themselves over the sink, Ginny sighed wearily and pulled her thick hair out of the elastic tie keeping it on top of her head. Long, pale fingers sliced through the blood red strands, gently yanking the loose knots out. It was definitely time for a long shower. Or maybe a bath. She did have just under an hour before the machine would start beeping at her.

A soaking, hot bath it was.

Try as she might, Ginny did not make it back to the kitchen before the oven timer went off. She was halfway between buttoning her jeans and shoving a shirt over her head when the sharp noise began to repeatedly puncture the silence.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Ginny said to the inanimate object and punched the _Kitchen Timer_ button with a jabbing finger.

Water drops were accumulating around her feet from her dripping wet hair but a quick Hot Air Charm dried the floor and her auburn locks in half a minute. Twirling her wand almost absently, vegetables sprang out of the refrigerator as a large knife rose to meet them above the table before they were being sliced in mid air. Ginny was just turning the dial to ignite a burner when she heard a distant _whoosh_ and the tell tale sounds of someone stomping their feet in front of the fireplace.

"'Ello? Anybody home?" A deep voice bellowed from the living room after a prolonged moment.

Excitement and instant happiness welled largely in Ginny's chest and she had to pause to make sure the burner was turned on low before she most literally ran into the other room. Bare feet slapping the wooden floor, she slid to a stop behind the couch when Charlie came into view.

His flaming red hair was long again, pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck with a few stray pieces tucked behind his ears. A single stud earring glittered in his left ear and there was a healed scar that ran from beside his ear to just underneath his jaw. A knee length brown coat, with a singe mark here and there, was unbuttoned to reveal a creamy shirt underneath and a pair of darkest black trousers shoved into leather boots that just brushed the bottom of the coat. The worn strap of a backpack strained as he threw up his thick, muscled arms and a large, matching grin to Ginny's stretched wider as he took a step off the stone fireplace.

"Ginbug!" Charlie shouted happily.

"Charlie!" Ginny yelled and she was off again, darting around the couch to launch herself, arms open, at her older brother.

He embraced her tightly, picking her up off her feet and spinning her around despite the only slight difference in height. Setting her back down, Charlie held onto her arms and gave her the once over.

"Look at you - my little sister, all grown up," Charlie mused almost sarcastically.

"We've all got to do it," Ginny said with amusement, not missing the deep crinkles around his eyes or the lines bracketing his mouth that spoke of his age too. "Besides - it hasn't been _that_ long since you've seen me."

"Not since your engagement party in May," Charlie countered, dropping his bag to the floor. "And that was long before you became the sweetheart Seeker that you are now."

Ginny tilted her head to the side and gave an overly sweet smile, one hand perched below her chin as she curtesed slightly.

"Congratulations on your catch, by the way," Charlie said, pride evident on his handsome face.

"You could have been there you know," Ginny told him, one eyebrow cocking in fake admonishment as she smirked. "Romania isn't that far from France."

"I'm sorry - I really am," he said apologetically, truly appearing upset that he had missed the big match. "I had to prepare for my meeting tomorrow."

Ginny rolled her eyes, suddenly irritated, and turned around to walk back to the kitchen. "You sound like Harry. He won't be here tonight, by the way. He's at the office preparing for whatever big meeting he has tomorrow too."

Charlie didn't say anything for a moment and she glanced over her shoulder to see if he was following her. He was, but he looked a tad confused and his half open mouth and furrowed brows were evidence of that.

"He didn't tell you?" Charlie asked tentatively, seemingly already knowing the answer when Ginny whirled on him from just inside the kitchen doorway.

"Who? Harry? What didn't he tell me?" Her words were fast, hurried as her expression morphed to match her brother's.

He did not wait to say what he had already let slip.

"My meeting tomorrow - it's with Harry and the Aurors," Charlie explained. "I thought he would have told you."

Ginny looked momentarily astonished but covered it quickly, suddenly acting like Molly as she bustled around the kitchen.

"No, he didn't mention it," she said tightly. Then, "But we have not had much time to ourselves recently. And I'm sure there is some security clearance for that kind of information," in a more defensive tone. But Ginny was already thinking about the little nuggets of details Harry had told her before he left that morning, wondering why he wouldn't have mentioned that her brother was traveling in from out of the country for an official meeting with him.

"Of course," Charlie agreed, still looking sheepish for letting the cat out of the bag.

Ginny made a show of remembering the food still in the oven and pretended to be utterly distracted with checking on her dishes. Seizing the opportunity out of the suddenly awkward situation, Charlie told her he was going to put his bag in the guest bedroom and tidy himself up. She waved him off absently, but once he was gone, Ginny leaned heavily against the counter and wondered what else was going on with Harry that she didn't know about.

Twenty minutes later when Charlie returned to the kitchen in brighter spirits and less soot covered clothing, the meal was just about ready. Ginny could not get rid of her hope that Harry would still make it home in time for dinner though, and none too slyly suggested they enjoy the Scotch eggs while the rest of the meal kept warm in the oven. Somewhat surprisingly, Charlie conjured up a bottle of white wine and set about explaining the tasting procedures as he uncorked the Chardonnay. An amused but indulgent grin lit up Ginny's face as her brother blushed and told her he had gone to several wineries with a Muggle girl a few years back. The process and knowledge it took to create a good bottle of wine intrigued him, so it had become a rare hobby to enjoy when he wasn't wrangling young dragons or making sure the more dangerous beasts weren't harming anyone.

"I suppose people can still surprise you," Ginny said as she swirled her glass like he showed her and tilted it to see the legs it had created along the curves.

"I find that to be true every day," Charlie grinned and took a small sip of his wine, nodding agreeably.

"Like my new team Healer -" Ginny started, easing herself into a wooden chair at the kitchen table. "She came for a house call last week after my injury. She was - cordial enough, but then she brought out some Muggle instruments." Auburn eyebrows rose as if in delayed surprise, her gaze unfocused. "Told me she was training to be a Muggle... physician too. Don't get me wrong, I think it's a fantastic idea - especially if she wants to have Muggleborns feel more comfortable - particularly the young ones - but she came in so - haughty and stiff." Ginny glanced up, smiling briefly as she noticed Charlie watching her intently. "I would not have pegged her for someone to have such a, duality."

The setting sun cast his face in a soft glow, allowing the curiosity wrinkling his eyes to be easily seen.

"The Wizarding World has changed considerably already," Charlie stated. "I think it is wonderful that a witch or wizard can interact so freely with Muggles and not be shamed for it."

"As do I," Ginny agreed, glancing out the window as if she could see if Harry was traveling home. "We can both learn from each other."

Charlie was quiet for a moment as she placed her empty wine glass on the table and stood up to ready the food to eat. A spatula floated to follow Ginny and once the tray containing the very large and very stuffed chicken breasts came out of the oven, they were promptly moved to a serving plate with the sheet pan magically moving to the sink. The glass casserole dish with the creamy and cheesy potatoes levitated onto the counter next and the delicious aromas were strong enough to get Charlie out of his chair to investigate.

"What was the name of that new Healer again?" He asked casually while poking at the crust of the potatoes.

Ginny swatted his hand away but nipped a crumbling bit and tossed it in her mouth with a smirk.

"Monica something," she answered as a large knife cut the chicken breasts in half. "French sounding last name."

Charlie made a noncommittal _hmm_ ing sound as he opened the fridge door and poked around its contents.

"Why?" Ginny quiered, glancing back then turning to face him with a suspicious smirk in place. "Did you shag a Healer named Monica?" A teasing grin erupted across her freckled face.

Her second eldest brother was hard to rile up and this was no exception. Charlie shut the refrigerator and stood up straight, keeping eye contact as he spoke.

"There was a witch in Ravenclaw named Monica a year below me at Hogwarts. We were decent friends before I graduated."

"Uh huh," Ginny said skeptically, tucking away that bit of information for later.

With a single glance, their two plates rose off the table and glided through the air to hover beside the stove expectantly. Charlie watched as she put a piece of chicken on each, then generous helpings of the potato casserole.

"How is Quidditch going, by the way?" He asked, picking up the wine bottle and refilling their glasses. "Are they keeping you on as Seeker?"

Ginny was all smiles when she turned around, looking as if she were going to burst with forgotten excitement and nodding her head vigorously. Her eagerness caused the plates to shake as they levitated back to their respective places on the table.

"Coach Beall said they want to keep me on until Gwenog gets back," Ginny rushed to say as if the words might not hold true if she didn't verbalize it. "That could mean I have several months Seeking, or she could come back next week and I go back to Chaser."

"Gin that's great!"

"Thanks!" She said eagerly. "I would love to play a few more matches as Seeker but - I remember now why the position is so stressful - it's like the whole game is on your shoulders. But at least now, maybe Gwenog will lay off me and pick on someone else."

Charlie laughed thoroughly as they both sat down for dinner. "It's just because you're still the newest player on the team," he conjouled her ego. "Soon enough there will be a new rookie for her to pick on."

Ginny placed a napkin on her lap and picked up her fork to point it at him, emphasizing her next statement. "But until then, and until I get booted from the position - I'm going to be the best damn Seeker I can be."

Dinner was a light event, the laughter and conversation flowing easily as Charlie told her about the latest hatchlings. Ginny regaled the match when she was hit by the Bludger and how awful Skele-gro really was. They gossiped about their brothers as only siblings could; when Ron would finally propose to Hermione, if George and Angelina would have kids, how Bill understood what Fleur was saying most of the time.

When their plates were mostly cleared and they had sat back to relax in their chairs, the wine was replaced with Firewhiskey and a tray of chocolate chip cookies floated to sit on the table between them.

"I'm proud of you, Gin," Charlie said when there was a lapse in conversation, his having noticed Ginny staring blankly at her glass promoting him to venture into a more personal subject.

She looked up, surprise widening her eyes a fraction.

"I am," he continued, his own tumbler of Firewhiskey rotating between his fingers as the other arm lay draped over the back of the chair next to him. "You've been through so much over the years, but you have become a stronger, more resilient witch because of it. When I think of what could have happened - how you could have turned out on the other side of the -" He broke off, unable to say the Chamber of Secrets by name. No one had said it in many years and she was all the more glad for it. "You have become successful despite what life has given you, and I just want you to know that I'm proud of you."

Ginny made an _aww_ noise that may have been a stifled sob and wiped away the tears leaking from her eyes.

"Life still has a way of throwing me curveballs," she chuckled weakly, a smile spearing her lips nonetheless. "Or rather, Harry does."

"I know, I know," Charlie heaved with a sigh and he drained a portion of his Firewhiskey before his gaze landed back on his sister. "But it all has a way of working itself out. Everything happens for a reason - isn't that what you're always saying?"

It was her turn to concede.

"I know, I know," Ginny agreed with a more secretive grin and a slight shaking of her head. "He just drives me mad sometimes. And I'm not just talking about forgetting to put the seat down when he goes to the loo. He's so moody most of the time - and the other half, he's feeling randy or sleeping."

Charlie snorted, not quite expecting a foray into his sister's sex life.

"Everything that happened to him - everything he went through - it's a lot to process," Charlie rationalized, still grinning though it nearly vanished once he cleared his throat and matched his tone to the seriousness of the topic. "I don't think anyone could truly fault him if he wasn't over it and past it in a few weeks or a few months, or even, a year or so."

"Yea," Ginny strung out the single word, not entirely sounding like she believed what she was agreeing with him on. "It's just - for all of his noticeable flaws, and all of the goodness that is in him - Harry is a right pain to live with."

"Geez Gin - how many times have you fallen into the toilet in the middle of the night?"

They both laughed heartily.

"It will get easier," Ginny said a moment after their chuckles had died down, more to herself than to Charlie though she offered him a weak smile. "After the wedding - after some of this stress is gone."

"How are the wedding plans coming along?" Her elder brother asked and her cringe was answer enough. "Not that well then?" Charlie laughed shortly. "You'll get there, Gin, don't worry," he assured her.

"I know, I know," she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. "Another few months and my season will be over and I'll have a break to start picking out flowers and place settings and a cake."

Her eyes lit up on the last word and Ginny reached for one more cookie as the many cake and frosting options whirled through her mind.

"If you need someone to go with you to the food tastings and to all of the bakeries -" Charlie began and jerked a thumb towards himself. "I'm your guy."

The grandfather clock chimed from the living room and they both waited a moment in silence as it finished tolling, counting the gongs then glancing at the digital time on the stove.

A yawn stretched Ginny's mouth wide and the action was copied across the table.

"Is it that late already?" Charlie asked without expecting an answer. "I need to get to bed soon - gotta be up early to get to the Ministry."

He stood, stacked their dirty plates on top of one another, and carried them to the sink. Coming back to the table, he picked up his glass and drained the rest of the liquor.

"Would you like me to make some breakfast in the morning?" Ginny asked still sitting in her wooden chair at the kitchen table.

"No," Charlie answered as he stretched his arms over his head and sighed tiredly. "I have to be there at eight, and I'm sure you would rather sleep in on your last day off than get up and cook. I'll grab a pastry on my way there."

"Don't let anyone tell you you're not a smart wizard," Ginny said teasingly by way of agreement, her own smile faint because of the late hour.

"Oh I think people know better than that by now," Charlie responded and suppressed another yawn.

He came to stand next to his only sister and bent slightly to press a kiss to the top of her head. "Thanks for dinner, Gin - it was delicious as always."

"Anytime," Ginny remarked, finally and slowly getting to her feet as a twirl of her fingers had the short glasses floating to the sink. "You're always welcome to pop in or to come stay with us. Merlin knows there's room enough for you here too."

A tender expression briefly slid across his face. Then, a toothy grin similar to George's showed the lone dimple in the middle of his cheek.

"I'll keep that in mind next time I have a day off that doesn't involve a meeting."

"Charlie -" Ginny spoke hastily, before the subject was rushed by once again. "What kind of case are you working with Harry on? Were they your dragon eggs that were found illegally?"

His serene appearance did not falter, rather he almost seemed to have expected the last ditch effort from his sister. At least she knew something already - Charlie felt less guilty about giving up the scant details that Harry must have vaguely mentioned to her before.

"Yes. We had a pair stolen a fortnight ago - just about ready to hatch," Charlie explained, causing two creases to form between her brows as she wondered why he hadn't mentioned this before. "It wasn't until Wednesday that rumors about two of these foreign dragons being for sale here in Britain got back to us."

"Why are you going to the meeting then?" Ginny asked. "It's not like you would know who had stolen the eggs."

Charlie shrugged, either not telling her everything or at a loss for why his presence was requested too.

"Maybe they think I'll have an idea of who it was, or that I'll be able to identify a suspect they already have," he motioned uncertainly with his hands. "I'll find out tomorrow."

Ginny mutely nodded, eyeing him for any sign that he was holding back the information that she was searching for. But he remained impassive and she continued nodding as if she understood more than she actually did.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Gin - Harry knows what he's doing," Charlie reassured her though it did little to quell her desire to know what was going on with her fiancée.

Still nodding, and wrapping her arms across her body out of habit, Ginny gave her brother a watery smile.

"I'm sure he does."

"Good night, Gin," Charlie said when she returned to silently staring at him, her thoughts occupying her distant gaze.

"Good night," Ginny responded automatically.

It could have been a scant few moments or several minutes later, she was so lost in wondering what Harry was keeping from her that Ginny didn't realize it was almost midnight and that Charlie was probably asleep by then. It mattered little that she still needed to clean up the kitchen, or that she should be planning out the errands she needed to run the next day. Ginny retrieved her empty glass from the sink, refilled it with Firewhiskey, pulled a jacket around her shoulders, and strode outside onto the balcony, her feet and the door barely making a sound. The moon and stars would keep her company until sleep beckoned once more.

Charlie was indeed gone the following morning when she woke up near ten o'clock, a very rare occurrence when early mornings had become the norm for her.

There was a scrap of parchment tucked underneath the nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey with Charlie's neat handwriting thanking her again for the hospitality. He had cleaned the dishes before he left and she had the thought to send him a box of chocolates for his unexpected generosity. House guests, and her brothers, were so rarely helpful without prodding.

Remembering the growing list of errands she needed to accomplish on her day off, Ginny made a steaming cup of tea and got dressed. She needed to stop by Grimmauld Place at some point. And there were a handful of magical ingredients that she needed to visit a herbology shop for. She was running low on ink, and their bags of Floo powder and owl treats at the flat were nearing the bare bottoms. But most importantly, she needed better Quidditch gloves if she was going to continue Seeking.

All at once, Ginny realized a trip to Hogsmeade would fulfill all of her errands.

Maybe Luna would want to meet her at the Three Broomsticks for lunch too. And she was certainly not against window shopping, or actual shopping, for a new set of robes for the upcoming winter.

Renewed in her day's activities, Ginny finished pulling on her boots and went back to the kitchen. Wand tucked into the waist of her pants, she paused by the Daily Prophet laying on the counter. Nothing jumped out at her, except the moving pictures, and she moved on to gulp down the remainder of her tea and place the cup in the sink.

Sitting in an overly large cage near a tall window on the opposite side of the fireplace was Edward, a pale, creamy, though not quite white, owl that Harry had gotten after he joined the Aurors. Ginny clicked her tongue as she moved into the living room and the medium sized bird ruffled its feathers as he slowly blinked open his sleepy eyes.

"I need you to take a note to Luna," she told the owl, popping open the door to his cage before she bent over the scraps of parchment sitting on a small table nearby. "You don't have to wait for a response," Ginny said as she picked up a quill and jotted down her request for lunch at noon at the Three Broomsticks. "She'll meet me there if she wants to join me."

Edward hooted his consent and stuck out a leg for her to attach the bit of parchment. Ginny complied and stroked a hand over the soft plumage, the opposite hand twirling to open the balcony door. Off the bird went, soaring into the thin, whispy clouds brushed across the blue skies. The owl blended easily into the midday skyline but she continued staring after the long gone speck of a bird, thinking instead about the merit of buying new thermal shirts to wear underneath her Quidditch robes if she was still Seeker when the colder weather settled in.

Minutes later, after making sure all of the doors were locked and the lights were extinguished, Ginny stood in the foyer and brandished her wand. Thinking acutely of her destination, she closed her eyes and Apparated out of the flat with a resounding crack.

The Apparation point at the Hogsmeade train station was empty when she arrived at the outskirts of the Wizarding village mere moments later. The gleaming red Hogwarts Express sat on the train tracks expectantly, waiting patiently for its next trip. A lonely station attendant inside a glass booth looked up at her arrival, nodded once, and returned to the copy of the Prophet open in front of him.

Ginny started off down the stairs and along the short dirt path up to the village itself. Just after a few trees curved the trail, the familiar stone archway and metal sign declaring the name and establishment of the town came into view and she grinned at the memories it brought forth as she strode forward underneath it.

She walked past the Three Broomsticks and wondered what kind of crowd was inside today. A rush of cool air fanned her face as a wizard entered Bundles of Books in front of her just as Ginny crossed the road to avoid the crowd gathering around a street performer. The crisp smell of new parchment and freshly bound books turned her red head but she merely glanced through the sparkling windows and kept moving. Owls hooted at random from the post office but she would have to buy the bird treats last, lest she forget them in the bottom of her jacket pocket again.

High Street was buzzing with enough people that she had to turn sideways to move past where street vendors crowded corners and alleyway entrances. Even for a Monday, the village was busy with residents and visitors alike trafficking the shops and restaurants. It was probably one of the last nearly clear days they would have for some time and Ginny for one was happy to be able to enjoy it.

The bright pink exterior of Honeydukes appeared like a beacon to her empty and rumbling stomach. Ginny swore she could already smell the sugary scent of the sweet shop even as she passed the magical greengrocers with its more pungent wares on display. Surely it couldn't hurt to stop in and see what new candy concoction they were selling to the students these days.

And maybe buy a box or two of Peppermint Toads to nibble on while she shopped.

Chocolate unwrapped and halfway to her mouth, Ginny walked back out onto High Street and turned left, resuming her perusement of the village.

The Charmed Palate had French onion soup on special that afternoon. The pastry shop across the street, Magical Creations, was advertising a one time only needed instruction class that was guaranteed to wow your loved ones. Zonko's was so vibrant and eye popping that she had to turn away, though not before she saw products that were starting to resemble those from Weasley Wizarding Weezes.

Ginny could just make out the dingy outline of the Hog's Head as she came to the slight intersection where Sow Road met High Street. The potions shop on the corner nearly obscured the old inn but the steady smokestack coming off the tilting chimney halfway down the empty road told her Aberforth was open for business. Taking a step towards the often deserted bar, Ginny intended to make a quick stop to tell the old, familiar wizard hello when she became distracted by the young crowd in front of the giant glass windows of Spintwitches Sporting Needs.

Taking a few steps closer to see what they were all gawking at, she felt a bubble of excitement when the enormous portrait sized advertisement came into view. The specs for the newest racing broom, a Nimbus 2020, were sparkling along the bottom of the product announcement while a nearly life-size rendition of the sleek broom zoomed in and out of the frame, garnering oohhs and aahhs as flames seemed to come off the tail. The release date said early December and Ginny had to chuckle as she moved away from the crowd - surely they would be the highest selling Christmas gift this year, most likely selling out in the first week.

Though she needed to go inside the sporting goods store, Ginny veered back onto High Street. The quick consumption of the chocolate had made her thirsty and even the jumping posters proclaiming the end of the back to school sale at Gladrags were not enough to deter her from venturing up the main road and turning left onto a smaller lane called East Street.

Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop sat at the end of the short avenue, a small clock shop next to it but nothing across the street. Witches and wizards were coming and going through the arched doorway and the sight of a chilled cup of iced tea nearly had Ginny's mouth watering.

Her pace quickened until she was darting through the crowd and sidestepping slow shoppers. The empty lot next to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop seemed to shimmer out of the corner of her eye and Ginny spared it a glance as she debated over raspberry or lemon tea.

But the unmade decision fled her thoughts as her feet abruptly stopped and she turned to stare at the opposite side of the street.

Next to the quill store, a building flickered into existence.

Shadows lingered beneath the trim of the roof. The pairs of windows were fogged with translucent glass and a nearly imperceptible sign was hung below a lantern next to the unmarked door.

Ginny looked left and right, wondering if any of the other people bustling up and down the street had just seen the building pop up. No one seemed to be paying her, or the darkened establishment, any attention. No one was going into or coming out of the store either.

Taking several tentative steps, Ginny moved around the unaware shoppers and stopped just out of the shadow of the building. Glancing around once more, just to make sure no one was watching her or her hesitant movements, she squinted hard enough to be able to read the sign several feet in front of her. A chill ran down her spine and her eyes widened as she reread the tight script.

 _EM Enterprises_

 _Established 2000_

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 **A/N** \- There has been a lot of H/G so far and I want to immensely thank the readers who do not necessarily ship them for, hopefully, sticking with me so far.

I have, and will continue, to incorporate Muggle electronics, appliances, and every day conveniences into Harry and Ginny's lives. They are mentioned in the epilogue and I think that Harry would want certain Muggle things in his own home.

I know I can't wait for Draco to make his appearance and I hope you are just as eager for his handsome face.

Because - he's coming...

 **Also -** As you all well know, everybody perceives Harry differently when reading the books. He is not the same person to every reader, nor is he the same character to everyone writing him in FF. That being said, I think most of us can agree that he would have some symptoms of PTSD after the war. The Chosen One is not perfect and no one should expect him to be. Running from the most powerful wizard in recent history, then dying, then coming back to save the Wizarding world - it would be a stress on anyone, especially afterwards when normal life seems dull and slow. Don't hate on Harry if he's not as shiny and glittery as you remember from the books. Don't be mean to Ginny if she seems more like a regular witch just trying to balance a high intensity job and a relationship with a famous wizard. Imaginary though they are, they are people too and they have flaws just as much as you and I do.


	6. EM Enterprises

**10 September 2001**

 _EM Enterprises_

Ginny knew the name almost at once. Or rather, where she had heard it before. But if she had forgotten its significance, smaller, tighter words became clear as she took another pair of steps closer to the door.

 _Antiques, Artifacts, and Priceless Possessions_

Then, on the next line -

 _Services Available Upon Request_

The words took her back to the initial referral Healer Leisque had given her.

 _"I know of a very discrete business - more than happy to dispose of the items you no longer need."_

Discrete was the exact word to describe the building in front of her.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder, looking up and down East Street. Still no one was sparing the establishment any thought. No one was pausing momentarily to gaze at the sign by the door or peek in the windows for a glimpse of the wares they sold inside.

It was as if this EM Enterprises were hidden under a Cloaking Charm. A very good Cloaking Charm.

Curiosity entirely piqued, Ginny slid her wand out of the waist of her trousers and squared her shoulders. She was going to investigate this sudden mystery.

Grabbing hold of the unassuming, rounded silver door knob, she was almost slightly surprised that it opened easily. She had expected to meet some sort of resistance. Cool air swept over her face as she pulled the door ajar enough to enter the dark interior.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust but she blinked and glanced around, the gas lamps lighting her surroundings as the door shut and the sunlight disappeared. The floors were a dark polished wood. A handful of small black tables sat here and there, glass and metal objects glinting in the scarce illumination. At first she thought it was a person standing in the shadows until Ginny moved to the right side of the room and realized there was a full suit of armor leaning against the wall. Her eyes continued to flicker over the odd assortment of hats and swords, necklaces and battered books, enormous feathered quills and jars of murky liquids. She noticed a skull sitting atop a most basic dresser and had to do a double take when she swore it moved to look at her.

A subtle throat clearing nearly sent her heart beating out of her chest and Ginny whirled around until she noticed the long black counter running along the opposite wall and the dark haired witch standing behind it.

"Welcome to EM Enterprises," the young woman said with a thin trace of enthusiasm, pronouncing the name "M" instead of "E-M" as she had done in her head.

Ginny could feel her scrutinizing gaze from across the room and through the dimness. It was not a pleasant feeling but she assumed it was necessary when your business was hidden underneath a layer of spells.

"Hello," Ginny responded as pleasantly as she could muster, a friendly smile turning up her lips as if to say that she wasn't here to cause trouble. "How do you do?"

"How did you find out about us?" The witch asked curiously.

Something about the slight tilt of her head, the way she styled her silky ebony hair around her shoulders, the not-quite-accusing though still skeptical tone of her words - Ginny felt like she should be able to put a name to the porcelain face.

Auburn eyebrows rose questioningly and her mouth opened to pucker into a small 'O'.

"A colleague referred you for your - extra services," Ginny answered vaguely.

The witch nodded and Ginny noticed a sign hanging behind her, partially hidden by the shadows.

 _We reserve the right to refuse any customer service_

"Several vampires were banned from the premises after asking to exchange children's teeth for blood," the store attendant explained without the need to prod, knowing what she was staring at.

Ginny nodded mutely, almost reconsidering her decision to come inside.

What kind of place was this? They were hidden out of plain sight but refused to deal with the more shady creatures of the Wizarding World? And what was Healer Leisque involved with that would bring her here?

"What may I help you with today?" The witch looked expectantly at Ginny, hands coming to rest on the edge of the counter, her polished nails clicking rhythmically.

"Err -" she started, not at all certain that she should make on the fly decisions about Grimmauld Place without Harry. "I have questions regarding the types of "services" you offer." Ginny moved past her initial shock the more she spoke and baldly asked - "But, what is going on with this building? What kind of Charms are on this place? Is it like the Room of Requirement and you only see it when you need it?"

Whether or not the other witch knew what she was talking about concerning the secret room at Hogwarts, she smiled placatingly at Ginny and wiggled the fingers on one hand. A thick, leather bound journal appeared on the counter, opened a few dozen pages in with a sleek mahogany quill resting down the middle.

"Before we get into the details, why don't you tell me who it was that gave you reference of our establishment."

There was no room to argue with her demand but it was the tone with which she said it that once more had Ginny swearing to herself that she knew this woman from somewhere. Feigning interest in what she realized was a ledger of customer names, she crept towards the counter where she could get a better look at the other witch.

"Monica Leisque," Ginny told her.

The fingers that were ready to flip through the pages laid flat.

"Did she now?" The store attendant said with a trace of acid. "And how would this business come up in conversation with a Weasley?"

So she did recognize Ginny. Though Ginny had to assume that her face was recognizable to most people. Being Harry Potter's fiancée and all.

She was not taken aback by the remark, but smirked instead.

"Your particular services," Ginny repeated her answer from the previous question.

"And what services would you be needing?"

Ginny realized that the other witch wasn't being short with her because she was loathing of her family. No. She was nervous, uncertain because she was in there in the first place.

"There are several items in my house that are difficult to remove without - damage of some sort."

"What kind of items?" Was the immediate response, skepticism evident in the question.

Ginny's smirk widened. She was enjoying this bit of taunting, knowing the other witch was uncomfortable having a Weasley where they normally wouldn't be.

"Items that were left in the house when it was passed down to my fiancée through relatives."

This brought a pair of dark eyebrows in to furrow above pale eyes that were narrowing with veiled interest.

"What kind of items?" The other witch repeated once more, leaning towards losing her cool as Ginny placed her elbows on the edge of the counter and blatantly tilted her head to look at the ledger.

Unfamiliar names were scrawled neatly, dates penned in on the same lines with the corresponding days that person had visited EME. There were lines left blank beneath the initial names, asterisks next to more names that Ginny figured were the people who had been referred through someone else.

"Some Cursed - some just difficult to remove," Ginny answered distractedly, her eyes not recognizing any names in the journal before it was slammed shut and her attention was forced back to the other witch.

"Would you care to be more specific?" The dark haired witch was coming to the end of her rope, her words more clipped than before.

"There are a few House elf heads to be disposed of," Ginny said casually. "Some old bones that keep popping back up - and a gigantic portrait that we just cannot seem to remove. Among other things."

The keen interest that the saleswitch was feeling but was desperately trying to hide, was in fact very noticeable. Whether her curiosity stemmed from an enthusiasm for the stranger side of the Dark Arts, or if she was simply inquisitive about a Weasley being so near to Dark objects - Ginny had definitively whet the rapt attentiveness of the witch in front of her.

"And what would you like us to do for you?" She asked the redheaded witch, hands folding on top of the leather journal.

"I want you to get rid of them," Ginny said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Isn't that what your extra services are - removal and disposal?"

"Yes - among other things, that would be an adequate _basic_ description of what we do," came the tight response. Ginny was certain that if this familiar looking witch did not see bags of Galleons or plenty of secrets hidden in the removal of her unwanted objects, she would not be as patient with the repetitiveness of the conversation. "There would have to be a preliminary inspection of the home and the aforementioned objects before we knew if, and how long it would take to remove them. Not everything wishes to be taken from its home and destroyed - some objects have a tendency to find their way back even after the magic has been removed."

Ginny straightened her shoulders and shifted her weight off to the side, a hip jutting out as her arms crossed over her midsection in a way that could have seemed like she was thoughtfully considering those words. But she was restraining herself from making a snarky comment about how she knew all too well that some objects could find a way back to you whether you wanted them to or not.

"What are the fees for this assortment of services?"

Those must have been the magic words. The saleswitch opened her mouth to rattle off a string of numbers but she caught herself when they both heard the unmistakable sounds of a chair moving and footsteps drawing nearer. A thin line of light seemed to grow stronger around a doorway that Ginny had not noticed on the black wall behind the other witch. She dropped her arms to her sides and straightened up her slouching shoulders. The feet moved closer until she heard rather than saw a door knob turn and a soft glow from a back room quickly lit the space behind the counter.

The tall, lean shadow of a man filled the door frame and he paused, assessing her before she could get a proper look at his face.

"If you have to ask the price, maybe you can't afford the services," the man spoke methodically.

Ginny recognized that deep, silky voice. But it did not match the wizard she remembered from several years ago. It did not match the thin, pale faced git that she had memorialized him as.

"Weasley," the wizard stated, and he took the last step for the light to fall across his face so that she could properly see him.

"Malfoy," Ginny said with equal parts surprise and trepidation.

A most handsome grin, like none she had ever seen grace his features, eclipsed his face and he moved to stand in front of the saleswitch so that her attention had to focus on him.

"Do you work here too?" Ginny blurted out the first thing that came to mind and almost instantly regretted it when his trademark smirk replaced the grin.

He barked a laugh that would not have seemed out of character during their time at Hogwarts.

"Work here?" Draco could not contain several more chuckles that sounded as sarcastic as his few words. "Weasley, I own the place."

"You own - this is - this is yours?" Ginny sputtered and in that moment she hated herself for the flush that darkened her cheeks and the sudden stuttering that made her sound nervous.

"Yes, that is usually what ownership entails, Weasley," Draco drawled. "I would think your family would have learned about that by now."

Not entirely surprised by the swipe at her family, Ginny felt herself fall back into a familiar rhythm as he upheld his long held post of antagonist.

She ignored his jab at her parent's former financial distress and said instead, "A Malfoy trying to earn an honest living? Maybe I have seen it all."

Any amusement Draco felt for a Weasley having stumbled into his business evaporated with her sarcasm.

"Should I force you out the door or do you want to leave of your own volition?" He asked cooley, looking entirely serious and making Ginny wonder why he hadn't kicked her out before then.

"And lose the opportunity to pay a Malfoy for unmentionable services? Why would I dare?" She retorted with a spark of sass, continuing on with little more than a pause to mirror his usual smirk. "Is this where you've been hiding out since the war? Hardly anyone has heard a peep from you - and now we know why, you've been _working_."

Ginny said the last word as if it were filthy and laughed at her own poor imitation of the blonde wizard she had known as a child.

"Better than you," Draco sneered, pressing both hands to the edge of the counter and leaning forward. Probably to resist the urge to grab his wand and curse her. "Flouting around on Potter's arm as if he is the end-all-be-all of your life."

"Jealous that we make the papers and you're just holed up in this store that no one is visiting?" Ginny riled him with a wider smirk, her own hands and stance mimicking his as she leaned against the counter.

"There is a _Fidelis_ charm on this building, you stupid girl," Draco seethed, the silky black button down shirt he was wearing tightening across his shoulders as he inched closer. "You can only see this place once you have been told about it by someone who was already a customer."

"Well aren't you clever," Ginny taunted. "Open a business and keep it a secret from everyone you don't want finding you. Quite impressive, Malfoy."

"You certainly seem to be hanging around the right kind of people to have heard of us," Draco challenged.

Ginny shrugged and hoped to infuriate him further by continuing her arrogant smirk.

"I have a way of attracting the oddities of the Wizarding World."

"You have a way of attracting something - I wouldn't diminish the peculiarities of the Wizarding World by assuming they will all find you," he commented dryly. "Though, you are still friends with Lovegood aren't you?"

Finally his words jabbed at a sensitive subject.

"You could never aspire to be even half the person she is, Malfoy," Ginny spat, her angry expression fierce enough to give her mother a run for her Galleons.

"I don't have to aspire, Weasley, when I have always been the best," Draco said matter of factly.

Ginny pulled her arms back to cross over her chest, her stance widening, and after an almost pregnant pause, she arched an eyebrow and gave him a pitying stare.

"I guess it has not been enough time for some people to have changed since the war," she told him, monotone without the emotion he would normally elicit from her.

"Don't guilt trip me, Weasley," Draco said with a quiet fury that belied the calm demeanor he wore. "It's easy for you to tell someone to change when you're not walking in their shoes."

"Trust me, Malfoy - I would _not_ want to walk in your shoes. The discarded women and money you step on would be more than enough to see the world from your point of view."

"Jealous, Weasley?" Draco asked. Whether it was the tilting of his head just so underneath the light or a delusion of her mind, the return of a most captivating smile paused her brain from an immediate response.

"You wish, Malfoy," Ginny replied in the long second before it became obvious that he was having any sort of effect on her.

Even through the dim lighting she could see his eyes running over her from head to foot.

"Pardon my mistake but I thought you came in here for _unmentionable services_ ," he said with an unmistakable dual implication.

"Malfoy, the day I require your _services_ is the day that hell freezes over," Ginny spat, a sweetness blanketing her words as her lips tightened into a thin smile.

"So you don't need my help?" Draco questioned rhetorically, taking a step back and folding his arms across his lean chest. "By all means then, you know where the door is. Maybe you should see yourself out and save me the trouble."

"Typical Malfoy," Ginny scoffed. "Unwilling to see past the prejudices of your father even when you're a grown wizard making decisions for yourself."

Draco appeared stunned for half a moment, before one arm came loose and gestured widely to the room behind her.

"Go ahead then - shop to your heart's content. I won't be the one to stop you from spending the only Galleons you surely have to your name."

The tall, blonde wizard gave her a once over again, smirked with what she thought was the tiniest ounce of respect, and turned away from the counter. Apparently he had had enough of their renewed childhood rivalry. She had nearly forgotten about the saleswitch who was standing against the wall but turned her focus to the other witch as Draco stepped through the doorway.

He paused with a long fingered hand on the door knob and looked sideways at his employee, his profile and a tight ponytail coming into view.

"Make sure _Miss Weasley_ is taken care of, Astoria," he said curtly and shut the door behind him, sending the two witches into near shadows once more.

Eyebrows arched in recognition and Ginny would have said _ah ha_! at the sudden connection of name to face if she hadn't been so flustered by the short dismissal.

Astoria Greengrass pursed her lacquer painted lips but stepped forward from her place against the wall and opened the ledger again. The pages revealed a calendar this time and they both pretended to be distracted, Ginny to calm her temper and Astoria to watch more closely the witch who caused her boss to show more emotion than he had in months.

"You need to speak to Mr. Malfoy directly about the actual removal of objects from your home," Astoria broke the silence as she focused on the month laid out before her. "I can schedule you an appointment with him next week some time when he will be less - surprised by your visit."

Ginny debated not bothering with the clean up of Number Twelve. Or at least, going somewhere else to find the appropriate services.

"Is he good?" Ginny asked, inclining her head to the back room. "At working with Dark objects - does he know what he's doing?"

Astoria bristled as if it were her abilities that Ginny was questioning.

"He is the best," the younger witch told the redhead. "You can imagine how his childhood revolved around them. He chose to use that intimate knowledge in a way to help people."

Deciding that though those were definitely not two words that she associated with Draco Malfoy - _helping people_ \- Ginny knew that voicing such an opinion might literally get her kicked out. And the unforeseen finding of this building had whet a desire for the unexpected amidst a predictable routine of work and home life.

"He would be willing to take a meeting with me?" Ginny inquired skeptically.

Astoria nodded, though somewhat hesitantly.

"He will listen to what you have to say," she vaguely confirmed to the youngest Weasley.

Ginny mulled it over for a few moments. If he ended up agreeing, she would be allowing Draco Malfoy access to her home. Harry's home. He would spend hours upon hours going through the rooms, probably days when he attempted to tackle the removal of Walburga Black's portrait. But maybe it would be a good thing - he was closely related to the Blacks and maybe he would want to take some of the family memorabilia free of charge. And it wasn't like she had to give him the physical address - he would only be arriving by Floo and she could easily have the grate name changed between his visits. Besides, she and Harry were not actually living there at the moment. If anything, she was preparing the townhouse for their own family, or to be sold. And both of those options required the removal of the various Dark objects left behind.

"He would be here - he wouldn't mysteriously disappear before I arrived? He would be willing to to help me?" Ginny questioned further, entirely founded in thinking that it would be just like Malfoy to stand up a business appointment with her.

"It would be up to you to convince him of that," Astoria said plainly, the edginess gone from her voice. "But he would offer you the respect of attending a meeting if you took the time to make the appointment."

Ginny wasn't entirely certain that Draco Malfoy would show her the same courtesies that he gave to other customers. In fact, she wasn't even certain that she believed the younger Greengrass sister when she said he would take the appointment in the first place.

But it would be worth the attempt to see Malfoy squirm again. To poke the sleeping bear as some would say. And if it worked out that she could cleanse Grimmauld Place in the process, even better.

"Do you have something next Thursday?" Ginny asked, managing to apply just the right amount of friendliness into a smile so as to not seem overeager.

Brows slid up her forehead with slight astonishment but Astoria picked up her quill and found the corresponding date in the appointment ledger.

"Half two is open," the dark haired witch said with the faintest trace of enthusiasm.

"Mark me down," Ginny told her before she changed her mind.

This could go mischievously well, or terribly bad.

Astoria wrote her name next to a timestamp and flourished the quill like a wand. _G. Weasley_ sparkled green on the page, briefly brightened, then returned to its normal shade of black.

"Let me just get you one of these -" Astoria bent slightly and reached underneath the counter, producing a small, rectangular business card that was black on one side and white on the other. The feathered quill bobbled as she jotted down the date and time of the meeting on the white side of the reminder card. "So you don't forget."

Ginny took the card when it was passed to her and brought it closer to inspect the thin silver logo on the black side. It was basic, just a boldened _EME_ with a squiggle underneath that looked suspiciously like an unadorned snake. The white side, for its lack of color, held the necessary information, including the address on one line and the handwritten " _20/9 at 2:30_ " below it.

"Thank you," Ginny said and tucked the card into the back pocket of her trousers. Out of habit, she patted the outside of her thigh to feel for her wand too.

The two witches stared at each other for a second. Their mouths both opened again at the same moment but Astoria hurried to speak before Ginny could announce that she was leaving.

"He has changed you know," Astoria said more quietly and Ginny had the absurd thought that Draco had an Extendable Ear pushed underneath the door listening to them. "He grew up a lot after the war."

Ginny nodded, unable to agree or disagree with that statement just yet.

"I have to be off," she told the dark haired witch instead. "I'll see you next week," Ginny added with a smirk.

"Enjoy the rest of your day," Astoria commented mildly.

Ginny began walking towards the door but paused as she reached the end of the black counter.

"See you later, Malfoy," she called out more loudly. The slamming of a book onto a hard surface was enough to have her in giggles and as the door shut behind her, EM Enterprises disappeared entirely.

East Street was still bustling with activity as she stepped out into the slightly warm sunlight. Small children were running and screaming loudly, witches and wizards were haggling over prices, and a hidden business sat right underneath their noses.

Ginny wasn't sure if she should smack Malfoy or herself - because she was fascinated by the way he was using the _Fidelis_ charm, and she was certain that she was losing her mind if an idea from Malfoy amazed her so much. But the utter brilliance of it - making the customers the Secret Keepers so that only the right people could find the building - was enough to make Ginny momentarily hate herself for admiring something Draco Malfoy had done.

Foregoing Madame Puddifoot's and the long forgotten tea, she began walking towards High Street and the heavenly smell of food. She was absolutely famished. It seemed that Peppermint Toads could only sustain her for a verbal battle with the former Slytherin, but nothing more. Ginny reasoned that at least she had killed enough time so that she could go straight to the Three Broomsticks to meet Luna for lunch.

The throngs of people moving along High Street seemed to multiply as she attempted to navigate the lunch time crowds. Here and there she spotted a familiar face and waved with a smile, but Ginny kept moving as her stomach vibrated with a growl.

The Three Broomsticks looked like a beacon near the arched entrance to Hogsmeade. People were shuffling in and out and Ginny grabbed the edge of the door as it swung shut, sliding past as a formidable Warlock exited.

She blinked rapidly to adjust to the dimmer lighting but grinned easily as the familiar pub spread out before her. Making a beeline for the corner booth adjacent to the front door, Ginny slid onto the cracked leather seat as she caught Madame Rosmerta's eye and motioned for a drink. A pair of menus appeared on the table and she glanced over the day's specials as she waited for her cold beverage.

Ignoring the conversations and patrons bustling around her, Ginny considered the Shepherds Pie briefly before she spotted her favorite dish of Bangers and Mash near the bottom. Replacing her menu on top of the second one, she looked up just as Rosmerta came over with a large frosted mug of Butterbeer. The glass had barely hit the table when a second person approached silently.

"Hello Madame Rosmerta," Luna greeted the barmaid pleasantly.

Ginny immediately slid out of the booth and threw her arms around the waifish blonde witch.

"I'm glad you could make it!" Ginny said enthusiastically, an excited smile lighting up her freckled face.

"I was just telling Starr that I had not seen you in several moons when Edward appeared at my window with your letter," Luna stated evenly, referring to the tabby cat she often spoke of as if the animal communicated with her.

Both women sat down in the rounded booth and Luna picked up the discarded menu as Ginny began speaking hurriedly.

"You'll never guess what just happened!" She exclaimed in a hushed whisper, mindful of the witches and wizards sitting nearby.

"No I can't imagine I will," Luna replied airily, though her attention to the menu did not make the words sound testy.

"I was going to Madame Puddifoot's for some tea when -"

Ginny broke off as Rosmerta came back to the table with a mug of Butterbeer for Luna and set it down. There were a few more noticeable wrinkles around her eyes but they disappeared as the curly haired barmaid smiled warmly.

"What'll ya have today, girls? The potato stew has gotten a lot o' compliments."

"Bangers and Mash please," Ginny said eagerly.

The elder witch nodded. "Easy enough. And for you, love?" She looked at Luna.

"What kind of fish is it in the Fish and Chips? Not Plimpy I hope," the younger blonde witch asked, turning clear blue eyes up to Madame Rosmerta.

If the landlady took offense to the question, she did not show it. It was very hard to forget Luna Lovegood's particular peculiar nature and most people knew she meant no harm when her certain oddities showed themselves.

"Genuine fresh Cod I can assure you, my dear."

"Okay I'll have that," Luna stated slowly.

The menus were handed off to Rosmerta and the barmaid told them she'd be back to check on them before hurrying off to another table.

"Would you like to visit Hogwarts while we're here?" Luna asked, turning her wide pale eyes on Ginny. "I don't think they'd mind us wandering around the castle as long as we didn't go to any classes."

Ginny looked perplexed by the idea and shook her red head.

"No, I can't," she told her friend. "I have to do a bit of shopping after this."

"Ooohh that sounds like a fun time," Luna answered honestly, possibly thinking of the odd vegetables she could purchase for jewelry.

"Yes loads of fun," Ginny hurried to say, her elbows resting on the edge of the wooden table as she leaned forward. "But as I was saying - you'll never guess what just happened."

"My guesses may be more extraordinary than what you probably just experienced," Luna said, her absolute seriousness bringing a grin to Ginny's face.

"Maybe so," Ginny chucked lightly, regaining her own seriousness after a beat. "But just now, I was going to Madame Puddifoot's for some tea when a building sprang up. On the left side of the street there? Next to Scrivenshaft's? There's that empty lot right there and - I turned around and - bam! A building was suddenly there."

Luna looked contemplative, her near transparent eyebrows furrowing enough for creases to form.

"Was there a Demiguise nearby? They can project their invisibility if their home is threatened. But maybe they ran away."

She should have been used to Luna's obscure creature references by then, but on occasion her best friend still made her stop and say "... What?" Ginny only paused to laugh though, the sound still hushed amidst the thick crowd in the bar.

"No - there was a _Fidelis_ charm on the building," Ginny said, lowering her voice further still. "But I went inside - and the wizard who owns it - _it's_ _Malfoy_."

Luna was paying rapt attention now.

"Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes - the only Malfoy we know," Ginny unconsciously leaned in, her face hovering closer to the other witch so their whispers reached.

"What kind of business is it? What does he do?"

"Buys and sells antiques and artifacts and worthless junk. But he also does house calls for the more - stubborn objects."

The pieces clicked together in the blonde's head and her brows nearly met in the middle.

"Gin - if there's a _Fidelis_ on his building, how did you find out about it?" Large blue eyes darted across her freckled face. "Did he tell you about it himself? When did you run into Malfoy?"

Ginny found herself more eager the more they talked about it. What she was eager for, she couldn't really say.

"Someone on my team mentioned it when they were at Grimmauld Place and saw some of the Dark stuff still laying around. I had forgotten about it, I wasn't thinking about it at all," Ginny hesitated in the breath it took for her forehead to crinkle with thought, voicing her inner monologue. "How could I have seen it then? Don't you have to be thinking about the place that's hidden?"

Whether the questions were rhetorical or not, Luna gave a moment's pause then answered them.

"Perhaps it is a different working of the spell - so that people who know about it can see it even if it's not at the forefront of their mind."

Ginny mulled it over, sitting back and lifting her Butterbeer to her lips as her gaze unfocused.

"I suppose that means that you could see it now too," she said after taking a large gulp of the frosty beverage and setting it back down.

"That is entirely possible," Luna agreed as she ran a finger through the condensation on the outside of her glass. "A theory I am willing to test."

Ginny met her blue eyed gaze with a grin, already picturing the look on Malfoy's face if Luna walked in.

"I have an appointment with him next week," Ginny suddenly blurted, unable to contain that bit of information any longer.

"You're going back?" Luna asked. "Would you be willing to hire him to clean out Grimmauld Place?"

Ginny grinned. Not much got past Luna Lovegood.

"It would save Harry and I a lot of time. And headaches. But - it's Malfoy - would you want him coming into your house and spending lots of time poking around?"

Luna shrugged, finally taking a sip of her Butterbeer.

"People change, Gin. Maybe he's not the same prat we knew at school."

Madame Rosmerta appeared with their lunches and saved Ginny from remarking that tigers couldn't change their stripes. With more vigor then she realized, Ginny tucked in to her plate while Luna demurely cut away pieces of fish. They hardly spoke as they ate, the youngest Weasley only taking a breath to comment on how good her meal was. Another round of Butterbeers replaced the first and soon enough empty dishes and glasses littered the table as Ginny sat back and thought about loosening the waist of her pants.

"That wasn't terribly fishy," Luna said by way of complimenting her food. "I don't think it was Plimpy after all."

Ginny rolled her eyes but grinned all the same.

"How are things going with Rolf?" Ginny asked a minute later after Luna had finished the last of her chips. "Have you cajoled him into another date?"

"He's in Brazil right now," Luna said as she glanced around the wide room, dutifully ignoring her best friend's gaze while a slight flush brightened her pale cheeks. "There was a report of an infestation of Crazed Capybaras near Castelobruxo. They're only native to South America, you know, and he has never seen one. He'll be back in the country next week though."

"He didn't offer to take you along with him?" Ginny questioned, her grin becoming a smirk the longer Luna stared at the bar that ran along the wall to their right.

"Oh no, of course not," Luna said, obviously over her unusual shyness as she looked at Ginny with an excited expression. "It is much too dangerous to be traipsing through the Amazon this time of year. Especially for a witch. It's mating season for the Curupira, and they're much more protective of their clans right now. There's a rumor that they are known to single out human women and boil them alive as an aphrodisiac."

Auburn eyebrows shot up her forehead, images of the dwarf-like creatures stringing Luna up by her toes briefly appearing in her mind's eye.

"I can understand why you wouldn't have wanted to go with him."

"Oh no," Luna hurried to correct her. "I had a bag packed and I was ready to go." The longing was evident in her voice, an exotic trip with magical creatures pulled right out from underneath her. "It was Rolf who told me I was forbidden from going."

An exuberant grin stretched Ginny's face as the full picture of the story was laid out for her.

"He forbade you from going?" The redhead would have whistled wolfishly if her mouth knew how to perform the action. "Luna Lovegood, I do believe that you must be in love with this wizard if you let him tell you what to do."

Luna batted her eyelashes dismissively but a small smile crept onto her lips all the same.

"He may be the most interesting person I have ever met," the blonde witch confided.

Ginny gasped. "I might just have to take offense to that," she said with a laugh.

The sarcasm went over her head because Luna appeared remorseful as she amended her words.

"I should have said that he is the most interesting wizard I know."

"I was only kidding you," Ginny explained lightly, tossing her dirty napkin onto her plate as she straightened up in her seat. "Besides - you and Rolf are definitely the most interesting people I know."

"I'll have to tell him that once he has returned to the country," Luna beamed, and Ginny was reminded of how rarely she saw the witch she called her best friend. "He worries that you don't like him - that he is too strange for your tastes. And Harry too."

There were dual implications in those words. Ginny ignored the non-comment about Harry - who had failed to show up to formally meet Rolf Scamander on two separate occasions, without giving a reason or excuse - and focused on what else Luna was saying.

"How many times have you been out with Rolf?" Ginny said more loudly than she intended, earning a few stares from nearby tables.

Luna appeared contemplative for a long moment.

"Excluding the ten weeks he has been out of the country - I've seen him about once every other week since Christmas."

Her brown eyes widened to the point that they looked like they were popping out of her head as she did the math as quickly as she could.

"But that's like - almost _twenty_ times," Ginny sputtered, almost unable to fathom that she had been too busy to notice that her best friend truly was falling in love.

Luna shrugged again, not looking the slightest bit put out that Ginny had been unaware of her relationship with Rolf.

"You have so much else going on that I didn't want to distract you with my love life."

There was a fluttering near their heads and both witches paused to look up as a neatly folded piece of parchment floated down to their table. It unfurled itself to reveal their small bill for the food and drinks.

"I always have time for you, Luna," Ginny said earnestly with a glance at the numbers at the bottom of the paper.

"I know, Gin," Luna replied as she reached into a pocket and retrieved a few Sickles. "I suppose I didn't want to get my own hopes up in the event that they were dashed prematurely."

Ginny mutely nodded, knowing the feeling all too well, and tossed her own Sickles onto the table.

"Well you can tell me all about what's going on with Rolf while you help me find some new Quidditch gloves," she told Luna with a grin.

The blonde witch smiled dreamily and Ginny had to wonder if the expression was because she was thinking about Rolf, or if she was imagining the odd trinkets she would find in the more peculiar shops of Hogsmeade.

"I do need to purchase a new journal and Unblottable Ink while we're looking," Luna stated thoughtfully, agreeing to shopping and gossip.

Ginny double checked that they were leaving enough money for the bill and slid out of the booth, stretching her arms to either side as she waited for Luna to follow.

"There's a sale going on at Madame Malkin's too," Ginny said excitedly as they passed through the front door and walked out onto High Street. "Do you need new robes for your next date with Rolf?" She asked cheekily as they waded through the voluminous crowds.

"No," Luna responded a moment later, her eyes on the sweets in the windows of Honeyduke's as they passed the garishly pink store. "I think I'll wear that yellow dress that I wore to your brother's wedding - Rolf says it brings out my personality."

Ginny sent a sidelong glance at her best friend and grinned easily when she noticed a secret smile twisting her pink lips.

"He's right on that one."

They had walked to the intersection of High and East Street without Ginny realizing their destination. Luna turned left and was moving towards Scrivenshaft's when the redhead noticed a building shimmer into existence on its far side. The black exterior looked the same as before and if she squinted hard enough she could make out the square shape of the sign just next to the door.

She opened her mouth to point out Malfoy's business but she was beat to the punch when Luna stared at it for a long moment then casually remarked, "Well - that is a neat trick," and opened the door to the quill shop.

Without so much as going to inspect the peculiar building next door, Luna stepped into Scrivenshaft's and left Ginny standing outside, slightly disappointed that she wouldn't have another chance to annoy Malfoy that afternoon.

At least she had next Thursday to look forward to for that.

 **.**

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 **A/N** : *happy emoji waving*

Just to clarify - EM Enterprises is pronounced M like the letter


	7. Bromance

**10 September 2001**

It had been quite a long day.

But the sun was finally setting amidst a storm of pinks and deep purples and this surprising Monday was soon to be over.

Though from the _pop_ of Apparation he heard from the large storefront just then, Draco was certain he was in for another surprise. Sighing heavily as he pinched the bridge of his straight nose, he mentally prepared himself for any one of the eight people who could directly Apparate into his business. Almost none of which could improve this strange day.

" _Drakieeee_ ," he heard a voice call out in a sing-song rhythm.

Merlin help him. He was going to strangle the next person who called him that.

There was a very loud crash from the other room and Draco was on his feet instantly as he hurried out front. If another one of those glass skulls had shattered -

The gas lamps burned blindingly bright as he stepped out of his office and behind the counter to survey the damage that had been done. A tall wizard was hunched over a mess of glass and silver on the floor. Long fingered hands were darting around quickly and Draco heard the distinct _whoosh_ of a repairing Charm before the other man hopped to his feet and turned around with a wide grin, the now intact object held safely in his hands.

"Why are you always knocking things over when you come in?" Draco drawled as he leaned backwards against the counter and crossed his arms. "It's not like you don't make an entrance when you arrive."

Blaise Zabini shrugged and replaced the elaborate candelabra on the table next to him.

"Just keeping you on your toes," he responded, white teeth flashing against his dark skin.

"Yes well - do make sure there's not glass underneath those toes. It would be quite the task to clean your blood out of the grooves of the floor."

"Aww c'mon Drakie," Blaise said and a blonde eyebrow silently arched. "What's life without a little fun?"

But Draco just rolled his pewter eyes, not giving in to the baiting. The last time they had decided to have some fun, they had ended up needing to Transfigure themselves to get away from a pair of Russian wizards that were none too keen on them stealing their dates away. And that was only last month.

Blaise was infamous for his fun loving and typically good natured antics, but Draco was not in the mood for any of that just then. And the wizard whom he called his best mate picked up on that.

"Who stuck a stick up your arse today?" Blaise asked patiently enough that it was obvious that that was a consistent question.

Draco huffed, tossed his hands up without remark, and made a show of walking behind the counter and retrieving something.

"Weasley came in today."

Perfectly shaped dark brows rose as Blaise tilted his head with interest.

"Weasel King?"

"No," Draco bit out and he turned the ledger that he had been flipping through around, a pale, slender finger pointing at something on the right page.

Blaise strode across the shop, pausing on the customer side of the counter and looked at what Draco was indicating to.

 _G. Weasley_

The swarthy, handsome face relaxed minutely but confusion replaced the surprise in his brown gaze.

"The former twin?" Blaise asked. "Wasn't he in here a few months ago? What did he do this time?"

George Weasley was in fact aware of the existence of EME. Draco had not been shocked at all when the redheaded wizard had entered his store, barely three months after he had open it. But a visit from the one-eared Weasley often meant they would find Trick Wands and Charmed sweets hidden amongst the items for sale, meant to trick the other customers passing through.

"Not him," Draco ground out and Blaise noticed that his jaw was tight with tension. "The female Weasley."

"Oooooohh," Blaise said shortly, understanding dawning on his face. "Was she alone?"

"Yes, thank Merlin," Draco spat, shutting the leather bound journal. "Scarhead wouldn't have made it a step inside before he would have been ejected back out."

Blaise chuckled, more at the vehemence in Draco's voice than the mental image of Harry Potter being thrown onto his ass in the street.

"Do you have a spell on the door that would do that?"

"No -" the blonde wizard answered, pausing to thoughtfully stare at the aforementioned doorway. "But I should."

Blaise's chuckle became a string of laughs that were infectious enough to break the stony expression he wore.

"Can't you just see him -" Blaise said merrily. "Yelling and screaming about a building that's right there - but no one sees it." Another round of laughs. "And Pothead is just going on and on about it - 'I know it's there! I was just inside it! It's right there!'" He imitated an angry Harry, gesturing wildly to the empty air in front of him.

"They would all still find a way to glorify him - the bloody _Chosen One_ ," Draco nearly spat at the reference to Harry but scowled instead. "She thinks that I haven't changed since the war - it's Potter who hasn't changed. He's just gotten a fancy job and a bigger sense of entitlement and more valid opportunities to prove that he has to be the hero."

This sort of rant was typical for Draco, though it had been several months since the last one had occurred. Nothing riled him up more than the subject of Harry Potter. Blaise personally claimed that it was because Draco was still that eleven year old little boy whose pride was wounded when his offer of friendship had been refused. Draco said it was simply because he hated the other wizard. Nothing more than that.

"I guess if you save Britain's magical community on several occasions they allow you a pass on being a complete dickhole," Blaise said with an ounce of sarcasm while appearing momentarily confused as to why that was actually true.

" _Saint Potter_ ," Draco growled, his hands balling into fists on the edge of the counter.

"How was the littlest Weasley?" Blaise asked suddenly, his grin returning as he leaned forward with his elbows on the counter and rested his chin on a fist. He was ready for some gossip. "I haven't seen her since last year's Memorial Gala. But she was looking quite grown up if I do remember correctly."

Draco rolled his eyes again, his anger diminishing as he attempted to appear as if he wasn't recalling the details of his encounter with Ginny Weasley too closely.

"What happened to Daphne?" He asked in response, deflecting the question. "Have you gotten rid of her already? After she's spent all of these years chasing after you."

Blaise chuckled.

"I'm not married to the witch. It's just a shag every now and then. And I hardly think you can be the one to call the kettle black on that one, mate."

Draco could not deny that, so he merely nodded as his brows straightened and his shoulders shrugged.

"Not in the slightest," he told Blaise, his arms folding across his chest as he leaned forward until his hips rested against the drawers beneath the counter. "I just didn't think redheads were your type."

"How is the littlest ginger?" Blaise asked again, not allowing his inquiry to be dodged.

Draco's lips thinned and twisted. A scowl reminiscent of Snape's crossed his handsome features - he was almost pained to compliment the appearance of a Weasley.

"Still annoying. And mouthy. And too - spirited."

Blaise laughed again.

"Sounds like you're describing me," he said, his arms folding on top of each other on the counter. "But you mean spirited in a good way, right?"

The question was rhetorical but Blaise's sudden seriousness and concern as he spoke it broke down the last of Draco's stress from the work day. He laughed shortly, the ghost of a grin erasing the tension from his expression.

"Little Ginny Weasley was just as effective at running her mouth today as she was when we were at Hogwarts. She was gutsy coming in here in the first place but then she's asking questions, demanding prices and specifics. And Astoria was trying to tell her that she could schedule an appointment but Weasley just kept nagging and nagging."

Maybe his ranting wasn't over.

Draco took a breath and was unconcerned to see amused shock on his friend's face. He had spoken quickly and with enough escalating force that he was certain he came off a bit too strong.

"Did she make one though? An appointment with you?"

Blaise was much too eager for the answer. Draco was certain that this was the most unexpected excitement he had gotten from a woman since he had received a stripper cake for his birthday the year before.

"Sometime next week," he admitted with a faint shake of his blonde head. "Wednesday or Thursday," he added nonchalantly as if he hadn't memorized the date and time of it.

"My, my," Blaise said with a low whistle. "She's already gotten under your skin."

"What do you expect - she's a Weasley - it's like they were created to infuriate the rest of us."

Blaise looked at the blonde wizard skeptically.

"Or maybe you're just worried that she'll bring Potter with her when she comes back," Blaise said casually.

Again, Draco rolled his eyes.

"He's more than welcome to visit," Draco bit out, smugness caressing his next words. "But I am doing nothing illegal here and Potty will be sorely disappointed if he assumes he would be able to bring me in on false charges."

Blaise said nothing. Straightening up, he stared harder at his best friend.

"And worst case scenario - if he does manage to get through the front door, I can just cast a much stronger _Fidelis_."

"But he would still be able to get in," Blaise commented dully.

There was a twinkle in Draco's silver eyes now.

"It's a good thing that I know some Dark magic then."

Blaise gave Draco a skeptical look that wordlessly asked if he really wanted to hex the most popular wizard in recent history.

"Just a minor Curse or two - maybe _Oreclausia_ ," he attempted to appear innocent as he named the Curse that would remove a person's mouth for a short period of time, knowing that they were both immediately picturing an irate Harry Potter with smooth flesh where his lips should be.

"I can personally attest to the absolute torture of that spell," Blaise said, pretending to be horror-stricken.

Draco chuckled. "Pansy only put it on you because you were flirting so shamelessly with every single woman there that we knew you were bound to pull out your wand to impress them."

"And quite a wand it is," Blaise retorted smoothly with a waggle of his eyebrows. Not at all referring to their trip to the Canarys last year as Draco was.

The towheaded wizard continued chuckling as he remembered Blaise's panic stricken face that day on the beach, then imagined Potter with the same expression.

"C'mon," Blaise said, clapping his hands together then rubbing them conspiratorially, an equally mischievous grin curling his plump lips. "Let's go to that wee pub on Addams Mark and drink them out of all of the brown liquor they have in the building."

"I thought you liked that dingy piss pot on Crescent Road - Tavern something."

"Pub McTavern," Blaise supplied wistfully, his gaze distant as he reminisced on the shoddy establishment that was hardly qualified to be called a full service pub. "I do miss that place."

"You were forbidden from ever going back there," Draco reminded him.

"That was under unfortunate circumstances," Blaise commented sadly.

"And you were barred from going back to that place on Addams Mark - Lancelot's," Draco added.

Blaise nodded somberly, unable to disagree as he vaguely recalled each of the aforementioned nights and the reasons he could no longer frequent many of his favorite pubs.

"And you can't go anywhere near The Painted Lady without the owner hexing you into next week," Draco continued, reading off the mental list he had been compiling since they had turned seventeen.

Blaise nearly gasped at the realization that he could not Apparate to his favorite hole-in-the-wall pub in Cardiff and have a pint.

"And you -"

"Alright, alright," Blaise interrupted Draco, both wizards smirking. "I am thoroughly disappointed to inform you that I am no longer permitted to go out drinking in public."

Draco laughed heartily. "It's not a good night out if you don't have to modify some memories along the way."

"Spoken like the Slytherin that you are."

"Spoken like a Slytherin that is used to cleaning up the drunk messes of other Slytherins," Draco corrected pointedly.

"And since you are a true blooded Slytherin -" Blaise said, but paused as he moved to round the end of the counter. "And since I know you so very well - I know that there's a fully stocked bar in your office."

Draco held on to his trademark smirk as his grey eyes followed the dark haired wizard's movements. Blaise walked straight into the expansive office and made a beeline for the long rectangular table that displayed several dozen liquor bottles as well as various sized glasses.

"And since we are unable to go out tonight, it is just so coincidental that you have everything we need right here," Blaise said as he picked up a squat bottle of Irish whiskey, opened it, and poured a healthy amount into a crystal glass that then appeared more brown than clear.

Draco followed him into the Extended office and shut the door behind him. While floor to ceiling shelves filled both of the side walls, a large window occupied the far wall where the low bar ran the length. In the middle of the long room, three thick, wooden tables sat with an odd assortment of objects covering them, some encased in the bright sheen of magic. To the left of the door, Draco's enormous personal desk was shoved into the corner but still nearly reached the black rug that marked the entrance of the room. To the right, a door for the lavatory was discreetly hidden behind a six foot tall painting of the Malfoy family crest.

Grabbing the short glass full of the watery remnants of his vodka drink from earlier off the nearest work table, Draco tipped the contents into his mouth and swallowed. Good thing too because his glass was jerked from his hand as it zoomed across the room to where Blaise still stood with his back to him.

"What are you drinking?" He called over his shoulder.

"Make me one of whatever you're having," Draco replied, pulling out a well cushioned stool and sitting down between the first and second tables. "Just don't put rum in it."

Blaise laughed, ice cubes clinking before several liquids were poured over them.

"I wouldn't dream of it," came the sarcastic response. Draco chuckled again but held up his middle finger silently.

"What are those?" He had to ask a minute later, forehead creasing and lips widening as he examined the identical drinks in Blaise's hands.

"This might just be your new favorite drink," Blaise said stoically.

"What's in it you prick," Draco laughed, taking the thin and tall, round glass and eyeing the layer of pink liquid at the top.

Blaise held his own glass carefully and gestured with a finger to the visual components of his latest creation.

"There is a generous double serving of vodka," he pointed to the bottom of the tall glass and ran his finger up to where the color changed from pale yellow to bright pink, "with lemonade at the base." Tapping his finger just below the rim of the glass, he said, "But it's the cherry juice at the top that adds that extra element."

Draco swirled the tiny straw around and took a sip.

Much too sweet for his tastes.

But Blaise had his own glass tilted back and half of his drink was already gone.

"Whaddya think?" Blaise asked excitedly, wiping his upper lip. "Good, yea?"

Merlin help him - Draco loved Blaise like a brother, but if he was in one of his stupidly exuberant moods - like he was right then - he was like a puppy or a child constantly needing attention. Luckily, alcohol would slow him down, considering there were no women there for him to chat up.

"Make mine with less of the cherry juice next round."

Blaise shrugged as if to say suit yourself and took another large gulp.

For all of his faults and misdeeds and past associations, Blaise had never given up on Draco or shunned him. It had been his suggestion that Draco should travel abroad for several months after the war. They had set off to South Africa together, then India and Australia. When Blaise had returned to London to attend his mother's ninth wedding, Draco had continued on to the Pacific Islands, then Japan. Gregory Goyle joined Blaise when he met Draco in Brazil, and after a shortened stay in America's Northeast, all three traveled home.

When Draco came back to England, he brought with him a different appreciation and respect for life and the struggles of the world outside of his little bubble. Some old prejudices, like his ultimate dislike for Harry Potter, were harder to get rid of, but overall, his travels had wisened him and he was less likely to berate people for minor mistakes or for merely being different than him.

At first, that was easier said than done while he was still living at Malfoy Manor with his mother and father. Both preferred to seclude themselves inside the monstrous estate, leaving the House elves or Draco to purchase anything they needed from the outside world. He had been fine with the arrangements for the first few months, only having to see Lucius and Narcissa at the perfunctory dinner on Sundays and staying in his wing of the Manor otherwise.

But when they invited several Pureblood families over for a holiday party, Draco had outright refused their proposals to marry him to Tracey Davis. Lucius had nearly dragged his son from the elaborately decorated parlor to berate him for his lack of respect for the old ways. They caused quite the commotion with their screaming match and by the time Draco Apparated out of the entryway, every guest was watching, most with a hand covering their shocked mouths.

After a night spent in Goyle's guest bedroom, he took a sack full of Galleons and a freshly signed stack of papers to Gringott's the following afternoon and purchased, in full, his own brownstone.

The first week had been rougher than Draco anticipated it to be. He had taken for granted the services of the House elves and realized quickly that he had not a clue what to do in a kitchen besides eat. He was resourceful though, and a month after he had moved in, he was able to cook a decent, if somewhat basic, three meals a day.

His friends were eager to help, all of which still lived in their family estates with their parents. They would spend entire afternoons, evenings, and nights creating elaborate dinner parties for themselves, masterminding four feet tall cakes and whole roasting pigs big enough to feed an army. They got into characters and acted out a murder mystery, no one breaking face at any point during the ridiculous game. One day found the lot of them smashing China plates to see who was the quickest at repairing them with the best accuracy. The next, they were making cocktails at ten in the morning and drunk by two.

Draco's spacious townhouse indeed became a haven for Blaise, Pansy, Goyle, and occasionally, Daphne. Their friendships grew stronger and in that initial six months he also realized that he was bored with his current lifestyle.

Lounging around and doing nothing was fine for a couple of days, but it wasn't a permanent goal of his. When he told his friends that at the dinner table one night, most of them laughed. What else were they supposed to do?, they were rich. But Blaise had understood. He admitted that all of the lavish trips he took were not just for pleasure. Blaise had created a quiet business called Zabini Investments. All he really did was throw money at various companies and organizations, but he traveled to make sure that the products were manufactured correctly, the poor, malnourished children were fed and clothed, and the Quidditch teams used his funds on the proper equipment.

Draco vocalized his opinion that that was a sound strategy, but that he needed something less broad, something that did not require him to spend several weeks at a time out of the country. Pansy had snarkily remarked that he needed a job, and that snide comment had given him the kernel of an idea.

He had no intention of ever working for someone else. That was why he refused his father's wishes to go into politics, because he was not willing to become someone's puppet or to be the one pulling the strings. Draco would only work for himself.

But what could he do? He supposed it didn't necessarily have to be a "job". He could pick up a time consuming hobby. But the thought of his own business had taken root.

The idea simmered in the back of his mind through the beginning of the holiday season. More and more, Draco wanted to create something that he could call his own, some way that he could make an impact and return value to the Malfoy name. He wanted to do something that he enjoyed and have people pay him for it.

It was the odd occurrence of his early arrival to his companions annual Christmas Eve drinking at the Three Broomsticks that finally got the ball rolling. Or rather, Draco's inability to sit at the empty table and wait for his friends to arrive set everything into motion. He had decided to wander the streets of Hogsmeade so that he could appear fashionably late, and ended up walking to the end of East Street. It hadn't been until he was going back towards High Street that he noticed a small sign in the dusty window of a shabby looking, two story black building on the west side of the road.

 _For Sale_

By the first of January, Draco had purchased that building.

By the first of February, it had disappeared from public view and hidden under a _Fidelis_ charm, opened as EM Enterprises.

Four days later he had not seen a single customer but he had gained a lone employee after Daphne Greengrass had brought in her younger sister, Astoria, and told him she had found him an assistant.

Astoria turned out to be worth her weight in twice the Galleons. Her nose for marketing and ear for gossip vastly improved their stream of customers from none to three. Three became six, six became ten, and by the end of the second full month in business, it became almost routine to see one customer a day.

However, hardly any of the customers were aware that Draco was the owner and proprietor of EME. He spent most of his days in the office, or workshop as Astoria called it, reading or tinkering on broken objects. His travels had exposed him to the satisfaction of working with his hands and though the calluses and blisters were unbecoming of a Malfoy, Draco found that he didn't mind them. So long as Lucius and Narcissa weren't aware of them, he could continue to pretend to them that he was solely an investor in the business.

Eighteen months later and they were still ignorant about the truth. Or at least, the elder Malfoys never ventured out enough to investigate the building that they unknowingly had Apparation access to.

Blaise was eyeing random objects on the table farthest from the door and had a hand hovering over a simple gold wrist watch when Draco came out of his reverie enough to shout.

"Don't touch that."

Blaise glanced up, eyes wide with innocence and his fingers millimeters from grasping the watch.

"What's wrong with it?"

Draco put down his drink and stood up. Coming around the end of the middle table, he stopped next to his best friend and looked down at the seemingly harmless object.

"An older witch brought it in last month. It was an heirloom of her father's - he was Muggle-born and had received it after he fought in the first Muggle World War." Ashy eyebrows knit together as his voice showed the interest he had in the story of the watch. "It was lost sometime during You Know Who's first reign of terror and she didn't think she would ever see it again. And then - it appeared out of nowhere." Blaise looked skeptical and Draco's brows arched in an almost unbelieving manner as well. "It's not my job to question the story - I just fix the things. Anyways - the watch came back to her Cursed. It traps the wearer in a twelve hour long loop, slowly killing them - unless someone else removes it."

"How did she find out that it was Cursed?" Blaise asked the obvious question.

Draco shook his head, causing his small ponytail to brush along his shoulders, and a blurp of misfortune was certain to come next.

"She gave it to her grandson for his birthday. Poor kid didn't stand a chance. His family thought he was missing until they found him two days later, unconscious in a nearby forest, dehydrated and freezing cold."

Blaise made a whistling sound, clearly interested as well in the unassuming watch.

"Did he die?"

Draco shook his head again, hands coming to the edge of the table and tapping out an odd rhythm.

"No, but he spent several days in St. Mungo's and he won't touch jewelry of any kind the old witch told me."

"I can't blame the kid," Blaise said, staring at tiny, misshapen slivers of ice in his glass and swirling them absently. "I wouldn't be able to look at a clock ever again if I were him. Do you want another one?"

He was indicating to the empty crystalware in his hand, already walking the short distance to the bar.

"No thank you," Draco said without thought as his own drink floated across the room to land in his waiting hand.

Ice fell into a different, shorter glass and liquor soon splashed with an icy crackle.

"Why did she keep it then?" Blaise asked, giving his new concoction a stir and turning back around. "The watch - if it almost killed her grandson, why would the old bat keep the watch and not chuck it into the sea or destroy it somehow?"

Draco took a long gulp to finish his drink and shrugged, an expression of indifference relaxing his face as he set the glass down.

"Honestly - I wasn't listening when she told me why she wanted the Curse removed. Something about not knowing her father, or growing up thinking someone else was her father. It was something sentimental and I just wanted to get a look at the watch the longer she kept chatting."

Blaise was unsurprised by the admittance of not caring and indicated with a finger and raised brows to Draco's empty glass once more.

"Firewhiskey and some cider," Draco said before Blaise could ask.

The empty drink disappeared off the table and moments later, a wider shaped glass appeared in its place, just about full to the brim with an amber mixture.

"You're almost better than having a House elf around," Draco commented after taking a hearty pull and wiping the his upper lip with satisfaction.

A bark of laughter echoed in the large room as Blaise retrieved a second stool and swiveled as he sat down.

"Just give it another few rounds," he said a bit too confidently. "You'll be reminding me which table is which before long."

"Maybe we should go to the other side of the room now then," Draco laughed, pointing with his drink in his hand to the spacious couch that had just appeared across from his desk by the door.

"You don't want me drinking heavily and being so close to the Cursed table?" Blaise inquired, feigning confusion as to why that was a bad idea.

The three tables that took up a majority of the center of the room had each been labeled according to what their contents were. Assuming that anyone who walked in would immediately pick something up off the nearest table, Draco called the first table 'the broken', because it contained items that were magically harmless but in need of repair all the same. The middle table was dubbed 'the unknown' for the yet to be determined problems with the objects sitting atop. The furthest table from the door did indeed hold all of the Cursed, Hexed, Jinxed, and otherwise magically enhanced items. Nonetheless, the last table was by far the largest.

"Probably not the best idea," Draco responded dryly.

Blaise nodded mutely, taking a sip from his own brown colored drink. Draco knew that he must have seen something else that caught his eye because he was staring at a spot near the middle of the table, unblinking as he swallowed.

"What's the story with that?" Blaise asked a moment later, indicating with a nod of his dark head to the pale orange dome of magic covering an indistinguishable medium sized object.

Draco looked to the exact center of the table where his most recently received Hexed piece of work sat. Standing up, he glanced around for something, spotted it, and moved to the opposite end of the table. Shoving his long hands into a pair of double layered dragon hide gloves, he stretched his fingers and moved so that he stood close enough to reach the object. With a tenuous touch, he picked up the orange sphere, the magicked item still inside and the walls seeming to pulse with life.

As he brought it up to eye level, the translucent sheen of the protective magic dissipated enough so that the plain looking tome inside was revealed.

"The text inside is rare enough in and of itself," Draco began, sounding as if he was talking to himself as his gaze narrowed on the entire thing in his hands. "It is bound in a Manticore hide that is resistant to Charms. Almost completely indestructible." He turned the sphere slowly. "But trapped inside the large book - is a Lethifold."

Blaise's eyebrows slid so far up his forehead that they appeared to be a part of his hairline for a moment.

"How did a _Lethifold_ get inside a book?"

Draco shook his head, at a loss for how such a dangerous creature could be found in such an innocuous object.

"It is said that they can shrink their shape - go into a sort of hibernation - if they feel threatened by a greater force than themselves."

The long room was silent for a pregnant minute.

"What on Earth could have driven a Lethifold into hiding?"

Again, Draco shrugged and was unable to produce a reasonable answer. Instead he let the magical ball hang suspended in mid-air, twirling slowly so they could stare at it.

"There is a stasis Charm on the book," Draco said, taking a gulp of his drink as he glanced at Blaise over the rim of his glass. "Should it decide it wants to come out and play, it will be unable to and remain trapped."

The remainder of Blaise's drink vanished with a thick swallow and Draco nearly smirked at his friend's sudden wariness.

"It can't get out? At all?" Blaise asked, his voice bordering on tremulousness.

"Not even a wisp," Draco confirmed.

Blaise nodded, uncertainty plain on his face, and none too slowly he hurried over to the far end of the bar to make himself a rather large cocktail, his shoulders angled as if to keep one eye on the floating sphere.

"I'll return it to the Impenetrable safe if you'd like," Draco finally said, a grin splitting his face when Blaise's shoulders slumped with relief.

"Please do," Blaise replied, a smile and a short laugh following his plea.

Draco kept his dragon hide gloves on but retrieved his wand from his trousers. Pointing it at the orange ball of magic, he walked around the table then directed his wand to the far corner of the room. His intentions became clear when out of the dark shadows a heavy steel safe, perfectly square at four by four by four feet, seemed to brighten with the glow of magic. One swipe of his other hand through the air and the thick door swung open to reveal its completely empty interior. As the sphere moved to rest on the top shelf, the orange light permeated every square inch of the vault like structure with its rough walls. Another wave of his hand had the door closing again and once it sealed itself shut, several heavy bolts slid into place and the safe disappeared once more into the shadows.

"Feel better?" Draco asked, pulling the gloves off, setting them on the middle table, and reaching for his drink. A single hard stare at the glass and the drink refilled itself, bringing a brief smile to his handsome features before he gulped twice.

"I'd always feel much better if you told me ahead of time if one of the most deadly creatures on the planet was in your office," Blaise responded politely, though his expression said that he may not act so calmly if it happened again.

"Trust me - I'm trying to get rid of it as soon as I can - one way or another," Draco assured him, leaning a hip against the edge of the Unknown table.

Regaining some of his bravado, Blaise swirled the ice in his glass as he patiently walked the perimeter of the Cursed table, stopping only when he was between the it and the middle table. Switching his drink to his other hand, he reached between two objects and carefully pulled out a small, third item. Blaise's demeanor reversed; a grin split his swarthy face, his brows met in the middle and inched up his forehead, and the metal object held between his thumb and middle finger glinted as he lifted it high enough to catch the gas light.

"Please tell me you have an evil genie trapped inside this music box," Blaise pleaded with a chuckle, possibly a shade closer to being sloshed than Draco realized. "Maybe he could get rid of the Lethifold for you."

This was, apparently, hysterical to Blaise. His face scrunched up, and he did not make a sound for a long moment, until he exhaled and a giddy laugh filled the room. Already seeing what this would lead to, Draco stepped up to Blaise's right side and stuck a Seeker-fast hand out to grab the little object, careful not to touch the thin band of magic wrapped around its middle.

"You know," Draco began, securing his hold on the music box and looking up at a grinning Blaise. "You keep pointing out some of the more dangerous objects I have in here."

Blaise chuckled and waved the hand with his drink in it around.

"What's the worst that will do to me - lull me to sleep?"

 _Ignorance is bliss_ , Draco thought sardonically.

"It has been Charmed with the song of a Fwooper," he stated, knowing that his friends knowledge of magical creatures was not as vast as his own. That had always been a hidden interest for Draco and it hadn't been until he had spread his wings with this business that he had really explored it.

"A what?" Blaise asked predictably, a string of laughs accompanying the question.

"A Fwooper. Their song is pleasant, but if you listen to it long enough, it will make you insane."

That nearly killed Blaise's amusement, his dark eyes widening though a hesitant grin remained.

"Why would you keep something like that around?"

Draco shrugged casually and returned the music box to its place among the Cursed objects.

"Some records say it was used as a means of torture, others describe it as a way to keep subordinates in line. None of the successful uses read as pleasant."

Blaise pretended to look around dramatically, his drink sloshing onto his hand with the jerking motion.

"Have I missed something? - Or have you started taking in the most obscure, the most surprisingly _crazy_ things you can find?"

Draco laughed fully, the sound richly deep and slightly enrapturing.

"Nah mate," he chuckled still. "I don't go looking for them. The oddities - they just seem to have a way of finding me."

"However it works - I want you to be careful around all of these things you work on," Blaise said, looking around at all of the potentially hazardous items in the room as if seeing them for the first time. "Merlin knows you would be the biggest prat in the world if you wound up in St. Mungo's."

Their gazes met and a short pause followed that was broken up as they lost their composures at the same time. It shouldn't have been funny but they both knew it was true. Draco would make an awful patient.

Blaise held up his nearly empty glass and the blonde wizard mimicked his action.

"To not needing to go to hospital."

Draco shook his head, laughed, as their glasses clinked loudly.

"Cheers," they said together, the rest of their drinks finished.

Blaise returned to his favorite spot in the room and more slowly this time, he mixed new drinks for them.

Draco ambled to the very comfortable looking, soft suede couch he had almost forgotten he had Conjured. He wanted to melt into the cushions when he sat down, let his head roll back and his eyes shut. His body was tired from an almost full day of work, but his mind was alert and focused, working faster than the alcohol could slow it down. What he had just told Blaise was looping in his thoughts, something he had also heard said earlier that afternoon. A similarity that he never would have considered.

 _The oddities seem to find me._

That they did.

.

.

.

 **A/N:** Oreclausia is derived from "ore clausa" in Latin which means "closed mouth".

Manticores, Lethifolds, and Fwoopers are all magical creatures found in the Wizarding World.

Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am writing it.


	8. Sunday Funday

**16 September 2001**

Consciousness flitted into her brain as a pale light slowly lit the seam of her eyelids. Ginny groaned, squeezed her eyes tight, and rolled over onto her stomach with her face buried in a pillow.

Sleep. She wanted more sleep.

Kicking the thick duvet comforter sideways so that it covered her bare and cold right foot, she pulled her knees towards her chest and yanked the edges tighter around her shoulders. Flaming red hair was the only mark that she was in the bed hidden amongst the covers.

At least it was Sunday. And she didn't have Quidditch practice that afternoon. She could stay in bed as late as she wanted and not feel bad about it. It wasn't has if she had plans for the day.

Sulking as she tried and failed to go back to sleep, Ginny squished a pillow and snuggled into the poofiness of it, remembering Harry sliding out of bed earlier that morning as she became more alert. He had kissed her brow before he went into the loo, but then he had disappeared into the darkness and she had fallen back asleep. Not exactly the lazy, romantic Sunday morning that she had envisioned as a young witch. Then again, most of the things she had dreamt of as a little girl were not as cracked up as they were once thought to be.

The bedroom door creaked open so slowly and so loudly that Ginny knew Harry was trying to sneak in without waking her up. She could almost visualize the semi-pained look on his face as he wondered if he had disturbed her sleep. The grumpy part of her wanted to throw back the covers and needlessly berate him for daring to make a sound in her nearby sleeping vicinity. The other part of her wanted to lay into him for doing anything besides staying in bed with her. And another small portion of her thought that maybe just lying still and waiting for him to leave the bedroom would be her best bet for a stress free morning.

"You're about as quiet as a Troll, you know that," Ginny said with a touch of crankiness, pulling the duvet away from her mouth and angling her head so that she could be heard clearly.

The footsteps seemed to stop midstride and she wondered if he was staring at her lumpy form trying to ascertain if he had imagined her speaking or if she really was awake.

"I don't know how you snuck around Hogwarts all those years with such heavy feet," Ginny added, making certain that her alertness was not his mind playing tricks on him.

"Invisibility Cloak helped," Harry responded, giving up on his attempted silence and noisily opening a dresser drawer.

Ginny tossed back the comforter and rolled onto her side, propping up an elbow beneath her as she tried not to glare at the dark haired wizard who had his back to her. She had not woken up in a good mood.

"Maybe you should add a Permanent Silencing Charm to your feet so suspects aren't as likely to hear you approaching," she commented dryly, lazily admiring the muscled lines of his back as Harry took off his barely used shirt.

"I will, if you do too so the neighbors can't hear you snore at night," Harry said, pulling a long sleeved shirt over his head.

"I do not snore," Ginny protested, long since aware that she just might have breathing problems when she slept.

Harry let out a gruff _ha!_ that she swore was followed by an amused chuckle.

"Where are you going?" She asked, watching as it became obvious that he was not just changing out of his pajamas when he opened a drawer to retrieve a pair of socks.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and bent one leg, an ankle resting on his knee as he angled his upper body towards her.

"The Burrow," Harry answered, waiting a heartbeat before he added, "Ron, George, Bill, and I are going to play some Quidditch." He pulled on one sock, then switched legs and pulled on the other, his green eyes turning on his fiancée.

The contemptuous look on Ginny's face said more than enough.

"I'd have asked you to join us but I thought you'd want a day off from being on a broom," Harry said, an excuse that he fully believed.

Ginny was ready to tell him that she would like for him to offer to practice Seeking with her, just the two of them fighting to catch the Snitch and trading techniques, when she realized that she didn't want to go to the Burrow. Not even if it meant she could get on a broom and fly.

"That will be fun," she said instead, sitting up fully and leaning forward with her elbows on her bent knees.

"You can come with me," Harry stated plainly. "Hermione will be there and Fleur is bringing Victorie."

Ginny thought about it again, idly wondering how her mother would entertain the women while the men enjoyed the outdoors. Most likely with house work or cooking. Until she remembered that since it was Sunday -

"It's okay - I'll see everyone tonight at dinner."

Harry seemed confused for a moment, then recognition flit across his features.

"That's right," he responded, standing up and moving towards the closet for a pair of shoes. "What time is everyone going to be there?"

"Mum told everyone to be at Number Twelve by six o'clock."

She could hear him make a grunting noise as he riffled through a pile of mismatched shoes that he refused to put away neatly.

"Is she cooking or are you?" Harry asked, his voice muffled and a swear word following his question as something was dropped.

"She's more than welcome to - Merlin knows she'll probably attempt to anyways - but I have a recipe in mind I'd like to try."

Ginny threw back the entirety of the now too warm bed coverings and slid to the edge of the mattress where she straightened her pale but freckled legs and stretched her arms over her head.

Harry's dark head poked around the closet door frame and she glanced sideways when he spoke.

"Should I ask your mum when I get there? Have her send you an owl?"

"Mention it to her - that I'll be preparing dinner tonight," Ginny answered, retrieving her engagement ring, putting it on, and standing up to stretch a bit more. "Maybe she'll be so busy cooing over Victorie that she won't think twice about it."

Harry shut off the light in the closet as he came back into the bedroom, looking vaguely confused until he spotted his watch on the end table.

"And don't you dare let her fill you up on sandwiches for lunch," Ginny warned, the hour not too early for her temper to flare. "The last time she did that and no one ate my cooking -" She half grunted, half sighed. "I was so mad."

Harry chuckled, adjusting the face of the watch on his wrist. He slid his wand into the long pocket on the side of his trousers and moved to stand in front of Ginny.

"Don't worry, Gin - we will be plenty hungry for dinner."

He winked and planted a kiss on her forehead, squeezing an elbow before he stepped away.

"Don't injure yourself this time," Ginny told him, crossing her arms over her braless chest and arching an eyebrow.

Again, Harry laughed.

"I'll be sure to tell George not aim the Bludger at me."

"Please do," she responded, the corners of her lips turning up.

Harry grinned, obviously excited to get on a broom again, and ducked forward to kiss her firmly on the mouth.

"I'll see you later," he said eagerly and with the _Crack!_ of Apparation, he was gone from their bedroom.

After catching up on mindless household tasks and a spot of cleaning, the early afternoon found Ginny finishing up her laundry and thinking about what she could make herself to eat. She still needed to pop by the grocers before she went to Number Twelve and going into a food market hungry was never a good idea. Hoping that Harry had not polished off the leftover pasta from the night before, she made her way into the kitchen.

He had in fact eaten the remainder of the previous night's dinner and as Ginny retrieved a packet of Muggle instant oatmeal in its stead, she thought about the concoction she was going to be preparing for dinner. Surely the slow roasted chicken would be to everyone's liking. So long as it was ready on time, even Molly wouldn't have a lick to complain about.

Eager to start the cooking process, Ginny was dressed and prepared with a shopping list before half noon. Idly thinking that her day's activities were very similar to her mother's, she pulled the light metal trolly from the coat closet near the front door. It was a necessity when purchasing food at the Muggle grocers as she was wont to do, and quite as handy a tool for blending in as it was for carrying the plastic bags. Especially since she had mastered the art of striding at an even enough pace for the Muggles not to notice the _Locomotar_ Charm she always put on it before walking the handful of blocks to Number Twelve.

That cloudy and crisp Sunday afternoon was no different, the Muggles so wrapped up in their own lives and world events that no one paid any mind to the redheaded woman whose trolley was being pulled without a finger on it. Ginny was glad for their obliviousness. No sooner had she had that thought when she hurried across an intersection, only to look back and see her trolley barely miss being hit by a car whipping around the corner. After glancing around to make sure there weren't any Muggles watching curiously, she Accioed the cart directly to her and grabbed the handle adamantly.

Minutes later, the dingy and unkempt square of Grimmauld Place came into view. Hardly any grass was growing in the small park in the middle of the brownstones, and even less was alive in front of the ill kept stoops. Some of the townhouses still had wooden boards to cover broken windows. Most appeared to not have seen proper maintenance for some time.

But it was quiet. And barely a piece of trash on the sidewalk moved as Ginny casually strolled along, passing Numbers Fourteen, then Thirteen, and pausing in the slight space between Number Eleven next to it. The much cleaner facade of Number Twelve most literally slid into view and the only strong ray of sunlight for the whole day chose that moment to glint off of the polished silver door knocker. With but a quick flick of her wrist, she levitated the trolley full of groceries off the cracked pavement and started up the short set of stairs.

Ginny could hear the seven locks coming undone on the other side of the door the moment she ascended the first step, and by the time she reached the slightly broader top, a sliver of the entryway was visible. Her hip bumped into the door and pushed it the rest of the way open as the grocery cart landed on the top step next to her.

The new, large and more ornate, though much brighter burning, gas lamps burst to life with small poofs of smoke as Ginny stepped over the threshold. She immediately noticed the thick, new carpet that ran up the middle of the stairs and a tall, square mirror above a squat bronzey table in the entryway.

Proof that Harry was attempting to do his part to revitalize the spacious home.

But Ginny would bet all of her Galleons that he had not touched any of the leftover items from the Black family.

Or either of the two rooms in the entire house that had remained untouched by their wave of decluttering and tossing of unwanted things - Sirius's and the attic.

That would be a task for her alone. Preferably when Harry was far away and unable to catch her in the act of boxing up his late godfather's possessions.

With the front door shut and the locks reattaching themselves to their counterparts, Ginny realized that it was still plenty dark in the small nook of the entryway.

 _Would a chandelier be too much?_ She thought, looking up to the shadowed recesses of the ceiling. _Nothing fancy - I wonder if I could have something large made from antlers.. Some candles stuck on the ends…_

The wheels were squealing as the cart rolled itself down the hallway to the kitchen doorway. Taking a few jogging steps to catch up to it, lest it topple down the stairs and ruin the food, Ginny grabbed the handle and lifted just before it could careen forward.

More lights hastened to glow as she entered the basement kitchen and mostly to add to the ambiance of the setting, Ginny twirled her fingers so that the logs in the fireplace roared with a sudden, bright blaze. The cabinets began opening and the ice box let forth a furl of icy steam as the lid popped off and to the side. Food was lifted out of plastic bags and bowls, boards, and cutlery came out of their resting places. Soon mushrooms, carrots, onions, potatoes, and garlic were flying towards a large cutting board while three whole chickens soared towards an enormous and deep sheet tray. Small chunks of butter hovered over a pan as it heated up, lettuce was chopped and tossed in a bowl, spice jars shook themselves over the naked poultry, and flour began sifting itself as eggs were cracked into the dusty pile of ingredients in the wide mixing bowl beneath it.

Ginny rounded up the plastic bits of trash while the food magically prepped itself. Knowing she had all of the ingredients already, she wondered if she would have time to make a cake as well. The clock on the other side of the room said that it was just past one o'clock, leaving her less than five hours before the majority of her family showed up for dinner.

More than enough time to whip up a dessert while the meal slow cooked in the indoor, magic infused smoker.

It took her longer than she anticipated but just over a half an hour later, the chickens were stuffed with seasonings, the potatoes were sliced and placed around the birds, and the remaining vegetables were spread on top. The very large and very full tray had to weigh at least two stone. After some tricky maneuvering to balance the pan and open the heavy oven door at the same time, Ginny realized her own stupid mistake and grabbed her wand off a nearby counter. Often times she became so caught up in the manual aspect of cooking that she forgot that magic could do most, if not all, of it for her. But that was hardly the point of it when the concentration it took to follow a recipe was enough to distract her while she was in need of something to occupy her mind.

Feeling like all she had done that day was cook and clean, Ginny straightened up the kitchen once more before she retrieved the necessary items to prepare and bake a cake. Never one to shy away from taste testing, she wondered how much bigger a cake she could make if she wasn't dipping a spoon into the batter every few minutes. Nevertheless, she used magic to cook the raw mixture and in the few minutes it took to put all of the dirty dishes back in the sink, the deliciously sweet scent of a warm cake was wafting through the spacious kitchen.

With only one more item to prepare before she could finally sit down and wait for the chicken to finish cooking, Ginny measured out the sugar, milk, vanilla, butter, and cream cheese for the cake's frosting. She watched as a whisk whipped the butter and cream cheese, then flicked her wand to add the remaining ingredients, pouring a slight bit of milk to thin the mixture at the end. Swiping a finger along the rim, Ginny had to restrain herself from taking the entire bowl with her and eating it all before she could decorate the cake. Instead she delicately balanced the heavier-than-it-looked bowl on a package of fruit in the ice box and shut the lid. There would be time later for her to, probably literally, lick the bowl clean of icing.

The entirety of the large townhouse was silent, the shadows appearing more ominous in the quiet. Ginny was not unnerved by it as most people would be, but relished in the fact that no one was yelling or arguing or running around being a general nuisance. That would happen later. In the meantime, she basked in her aloneness.

As if on a motion detector, the gas lamps sprung to life when Ginny stepped off the stairs into the long hallway on the main floor. Her brown eyes trailed over the portraits on the wall as she approached the front door, then turned left towards the dining room. Standing in the archway with her hands on her hips, she surveyed the long, narrow room.

This was the perfect time for her to take inventory of everything in the house that needed to be removed, refinished, or replaced.

The black hutch against the far wall of the dining room stood empty, every door and drawer open as if to show its lack of contents. That could stay, but it would need sanding down and painting to go with the new color scheme of the house.

The long, twenty six person table that took up pretty much all of the room's space was still in relatively good condition. The mismatched chairs were another story but all of those things could be mended with some magic and a paintbrush. Or simply replaced. Whichever ended up being more cost effective, considering the number of things in the house that still needed a bit of help.

The only things in the dining room that Ginny thought needed immediate attention were the dreadfully moth eaten curtains pretending to cover the large bay window. They were decades old and barely hanging on the rusted pole. Drawing her wand out, she Conjured a fire for each long piece of fabric and set them ablaze. The controlled flames ran up the curtains until they were no more, then extinguished into a cloud of smoke with another flick of her wrist. Ginny stared at the smoke and concentrated while she began swirling her wand in a funnel like motion. A pint sized tornado appeared just below the haze and as it spun, it sucked up the smoke and cleared the room.

Her nose wrinkled at the lingering smell but a toothless grin stretched her face all the same. The dining room looked better already. Muted sunlight drew lines on the floor in front of the window and since no one could actually see inside through the glass panes, the removal of the curtains was merely an eyesore gone.

Ginny took the stairs two at a time until she got to the landing of the second floor. More lamps sprang to life, though she remembered mentioning several times to Harry that this hallway needed several more. One more thing to add to the growing list of house chores.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, Ginny stared at the coverings permanently shut over Walburga Black's massive portrait. The painting must have heard her approach because Ginny could just make out the muffled screaming.

"Filthy Blood traitors! Half-bloods! Ruining the house of my fathers!"

Chuckling to herself, Ginny responded to the portrait as if it could clearly hear her.

"Don't worry, you old hag - we'll have you gone from here soon enough."

Shaking her head at the utter task that that particular item would become, she moved down the hallway to the closed doors of the two bedrooms. Opening both and poking her head inside, she was unsurprised to find them neat and tidy. Ron and Hermione stayed in the first room when they stayed over and the second room was still organized since no one had slept in there in months. The bathroom was a non-issue and she merely glanced inside to make sure everything was in order as well.

"Here we go," Ginny said to no one at all, bracing herself as she approached the final doorway on the second floor.

The long length of the drawing room came into view as she opened the door, more lights flickering on and the heavy drapes coming open with a swoosh of dust. Everything looked the same as the last time she had been in there several weeks ago with Healer Leisque. The upholstery on the couches had not been replaced, or even cleaned, and the carpet was thick was years of dirt, crumbs, and unuse. There was a small section of wall that had several swatches of paint as if Harry could not decide on what color to redo the room in. Ginny glanced between the three muted tones he had narrowed it down to - wrinkling her nose at the pale, pukey green and hoping that he chose the sandy cream over the light beige. This room certainly needed something to brighten it up, and a fresh color on the walls was a big step in that right direction.

Craning her head to look around without moving forward into the room, Ginny quickly scanned the many bookshelves for any items that may have been tucked between any of the thick tomes. Satisfied that nothing immediately jumped out at her roving gaze, and knowing a more thorough search was still required, she crossed her arms over her chest and finally walked into the drawing room.

The closet hidden behind the still open door just to her left was the storage room for everything that had been found in Number Twelve, but not yet tossed out. Ginny knew she needed to look inside to see what else had been amassed but hesitated, knowing the half dozen House elf heads thrown on the floor would give her the creeps as usual. Angling her body and taking a deep breath first, she grabbed the rounded door knob and pulled.

The faint light of the drawing room spilled across the random objects and Ginny did her best to stare at the shelves along the wall. Cloudy jars caught the faint light in the corner of one shelf next to several battered books whose pages were sticking out at odd angles. The highest shelf held several blankets that had seen better days, their holes and frayed edges giving reason for them to be hidden away. Shoved into the darkest corner of the bottom shelf, Ginny could just make out the outline of a human sized skull that she had never noticed before. Cocking her head in silent question as to who the skull might have belonged to, she realized she was less disturbed by the possible atrocity that could have brought the large bone to Number Twelve than she was by the lifeless eyes staring up at her from the floor.

Indeed, Ginny was so tempted to throw a blanket over the House elf heads that she nearly shut the door then and there. But she had never let nerves get to her before and she wasn't going to start now with something as harmless as a severed head.

Keeping her eyes purposefully level with the wooden edge of the shelves, Ginny took half a step into the small closet to shift several objects with a hand. A very faded Slytherin tie was lying underneath a cherry wood jewelry box whose latch was broken and hanging lopsidedly. Something glinted sharply and pulling up a corner of the tie with the tips of her fingers, Ginny saw that it was the small music box that had been found inside the wardrobe when the Order of the Phoenix had cleaned up several years ago. Not bothering with the musical item, because there must be a reason for it to be in the closet, she covered it back up and prodded at the other things on the shelf.

A crystal ball rolled to the edge and nearly fell to shatter into pieces but her Seeker reflexes caught the orb in the palm of her hand and placed it on top of another raggedy cloth where it wouldn't be jostled. Ginny slid her hand across the shadowed outline at the back of the same shelf and gasped audibly when her middle finger was pricked by something sharp.

" _Lumos_ ," she muttered, her wand out and a scowl on her face as she examined the dollop of blood growing fatter on her finger tip.

The circle of light illuminated objects that had seen more dust than they had the light of day. A thick, gray layer obscured the colors and wrappings of the items but Ginny could still make out a dull dagger that was protruding from the mess. Careful not to grab the pointed end, she jerked the small weapon from amongst the unwanted things and brought it closer to her face for a better inspection.

With no descernal markings or design, the short dual edged blade with its smoothed wooden black handle appeared unremarkable. Maybe it had just been tossed in the closet because it had no business elsewhere. She could have Malfoy take it anyways, Dark magic harmless or not.

The thought stopped Ginny's movements and her face scrunched up in confusion as she wondered when she had mentally decided on letting Malfoy into their home.

Her wand still bright and held aloft, her other hand idly flitted over several items without her eyes seeing what she was touching.

Was she really going to pay Malfoy to dispose of all of the junk Harry had inherited when Number Twelve had become his?

They were going to be married, but was what was his already hers too?

She should tell Harry - about Malfoy and his business, about the appointment and the services he offered that they needed, about her wanting to hire the former Slytherin. For their own personal gain of course. Maybe if she spun it like that, like Malfoy would be doing them a favor by taking his mother's family heirlooms, the idea wouldn't seem so absolutely mental to Harry.

Or maybe Harry would just send an owl to St. Mungo's straight away for her so she wouldn't have to commit herself for lunacy.

At least that was the scene that played out in her head - Harry looking panic stricken and on the verge of losing it as he explained to the Welcome Witch at St. Mungo's that his fiancée had lost her marbles because she voluntarily wanted to associate with his old school rival.

Ginny laughed out loud.

He wouldn't go that far, but Harry would certainly call for a family meeting with the Weasleys to stage an intervention on her behalf.

The whole idea was fairly comical to Ginny for some reason. Probably because she knew that it would be her same reaction if Harry actually became that dramatic upon learning that Draco Malfoy was going to be in his house. She knew she would laugh and tell him to get over whatever happened in the past with the other wizard, it was no use holding grudges against someone who had saved your life.

She came back to herself and the present when her wand light shone over the spine of a text that glimmered brightly, bringing attention to the book that looked fresh amongst the odds and ends.

 _The Sacred Twenty-Eight_

Ginny bit the inside of her lip, chewing it slowly as she tried to remember if she had ever seen a copy of the book, let alone opened it.

The sapphire leather cover barely had a crinkle and it's seemingly random place in the closet drew her curiosity enough that Ginny wedged her fingers around the spine and pulled it out.

She extinguished her wand and shut the closet door, holding the weighty book in her open palm as she moved towards a sofa without looking where she was going. Ginny laid her wand on the low coffee table in front of her and spread the text across her lap, opening it slowly and feeling the tightness of the bindings. The pages were soft, supple beneath her fingers as she flipped the edges gently.

There was a large introductory chapter that had words like _Pureblood_ and _interbreeding_ , and _Wizarding pride_ scattered generously throughout. Ginny skipped past that bit and thumbed further in where she glanced diagrams and charts as well as smaller descriptive paragraphs. She caught sight of a heavily detailed drawing and paused.

On the left side of the spread was a full page depiction of a family coat of arms. Glancing to the right side, Ginny read the name _Fawley_ through an elaborate twirling script. Her eyes briefly scanned the beginnings of the written history of the Fawley family before she flipped to the next page. And the next. And the next.

It was some ten pages before Ginny found what she knew must be drawn somewhere in the thick book.

A family tree was spread across two pages, each name and its corresponding dates connected to several others by straight or dotted lines. Every generation of the Fawley family was drawn out before her.

Intrigued further still when she noticed one or two of her own ancestors names written there, Ginny fingered a chunk of pages and flipped them over.

 _Greengrass_

She turned a larger section of paper.

 _Nott_

Ginny moved the pages in twos or threes now until she found the family crest she was searching for.

 _Prewett_

This large and very helpful book had all of the history and lineage she could ever to have hoped to know about her mother's bloodline. Her Weasley parentage was in the back of the text as well, but Ginny did not know nearly as much about her mother's side of the family, and as she relaxed into the slightly hardened cushions her gaze slowed down to read every word.

After three full pages of the small print, her eyes were dry and began drooping slowly. The sentences ran together and no matter how hard she blinked, Ginny found herself nodding off.

 _She opened her eyes. Water was dripping nearby and there was a slight trickle from what could be a stream. But the ground was wet, solid stone beneath her._

 _A figured blurred above her. Dark hair and a pale face._

 _Tom._

 _He smiled cruelly._

 _"Are you alright?" He asked, the quirk of his eyebrow wordlessly saying that he knew that answer already._

 _Ginny blinked. Her head was heavy and her tongue was dry in her mouth._

 _Then it was Harry leaning over her. Torch light reflected off the cracked lens of his glasses as sweat and blood ran down the sides of his face._

 _"Are you alright?" He asked urgently._

 _"No," Ginny tried to say, but the grey edges of the stone chamber blurred and she felt like she was falling through nothingness._

 _A massive snake came at her through the blackness and she heard herself scream as if from far away._

 _Stone floor materialized beneath her feet as she staggered down a darkened and deserted hallway. The torches were spaced farther apart in this part of the castle and she hated that she didn't have the energy to light her wand. The walls curled around her and everything seemed to wobble before it straightened out with a vibrating jerk._

 _A doorway was illuminated brightly amidst the gloom of the never ending corridor and Ginny stumbled forward as fast as she could to turn the handle and fall inside._

 _Her eyes opened and she was laying flat on her back on a wooden classroom table. A hooded figure hovered above her, hands crawling across her bare knees like ants. A vicious, nasaly laugh reverberated through the room and Ginny was filled with the utmost sense of dread._

 _"Little Weasley, all alone," the male voice said, taunting her. The stubby fingers continued to trace patterns on her thighs, inching closer to the hem of her skirt that sat higher than it would if she were sitting up._

 _"You can't Hex your way out of this, little Weasley," the blurred man told her, a leering sneer the only visible part of his face._

 _Ginny tried to move, tried to squirm backwards and away from the very ill intentions of the wizard above her._

 _But she couldn't budge a millimeter. Couldn't do anything but blink back the tears that accompanied her panic._

 _"Don't worry, little Weasley - I'll make you come round."_

 _Ginny further attempted to make some part of her body move, even a finger to grasp for her wand that had rolled to the edge of the table._

 _Nothing. Only her eyelids continued to flick open and closed._

 _There was a chuckle from above, a nasty sound of excitement and justification. Followed, it sounded like, by the out of place noise of an alarm ringing shrilly._

 _"What are you doing?" A different voice asked sharply, accusation and concern carrying those few words to Ginny's ears like a literal saving grace._

 _"This is nothing to concern you," the predator hovering between her spread knees spit out, his fingers pressing into her skin with enough pressure to bruise._

 _The alarm continued to sound, growing louder and more frequent._

 _"Like hell it's not - get away from her," came the growled response._

 _"Want her all for yourself, huh?" The first wizard jeered, finally pushing her skirt up enough that a cold breeze brushed across the thin cotton of her underwear._

 _The alarm sounded in time to her rapid heart beat, thunking so loudly against her ribcage that she was certain it would rip through her chest or explode with panic._

 _A hard_ whoosh _focused her attention and her widened eyes searched for the person who had withdrawn their wand. But both men were still just vague blurs, one barely taller than the other._

 _The beeping was so loud in her ears that Ginny had to strain to hear what was said next._

 _"Step. Away."_

 _A cruel laugh accompanied a hard pinch on her inner thigh._

 _"Make me," her attacker mocked, the sneer on his face evident in the amused tone of his voice._

 _There was a bang, a rush of frigid air, and the too warm hand disappeared from its possessive spot on her leg. Absolute feeling returned to her body and Ginny threw herself into a sitting position so quickly -_

That she rolled off the couch and onto the carpeted floor of the drawing room.

Panting heavily and placing a hand against her chest where her heart was still pounding, Ginny glanced around the long room and hastily assured herself that it had just been a dream.

All except the shrill alarm that was coming from her wand as it vibrated incessantly against the glass top of the coffee table. Grabbing hold of her Yew wand with a shaky hand, the noise stopped immediately.

Glancing out the windows at the other side of the room, Ginny realized that she must have slept for a couple of hours. The sun was low on the horizon and the shadows had grown longer.

As if to punctuate the amount of time that had elapsed, the front door banged open loudly and she could hear the faint rumblings of people chatting merrily downstairs.

"Bloody hell," Ginny swore to herself, literally jumping to her feet and tearing through the drawing room as she remembered why everyone was appearing in the foyer.

Hopefully her chickens had not burnt while she slept.

There was an air of esteem surrounding his mirrored reflection. With how many Galleons his shirt alone cost, Draco was certain that he gave off the scent of money with just a glance. And if the expensive clothing did not mark him for the Pureblood that he was, his striking resemblance to his father most definitely gave away his namesake.

Turning his blonde head in the mirror, Draco frowned as he considered cutting his shoulder length white blonde hair for the one hundredth time. Tied back in a leather strap, he did look remarkably like Lucius. And had he not favored the way the style complimented the shape of his face, Draco would have trimmed it short many months ago.

But it had become habit for him to run his fingers through it and pull on it when he was frustrated. And he did so enjoy when a witch used it to hold onto him during his more frantic movements.

Sighing heavily, Draco checked his appearance again in the full length mirror. Dressed in all black, from his silky button down shirt to his shiny leather shoes, he cut quite the image. But his father was sure to still find something wrong with how he looked and his mother was certain to complain that he wasn't eating enough.

The heavy banded watch he wore caught the light as he twisted his wrist to look at the time.

He was due at Malfoy Manor in exactly six minutes.

Dinner would not begin until he arrived but that did not drive him to remain punctual. It would only save an argument if he was on time. Though he was absolutely positive that Lucius would still find something to nag him about.

Grabbing his wand and sliding it into his pocket, Draco nodded approvingly to his reflection and strode away from the mirror. As they said, you could only do so much to improve on a unicorn's appearance before you realized it had been perfect from the start.

Extinguishing the fire in the grate of the living room on the first floor, Draco double checked that all of the doors were locked from the inside and magically prodded at the wards to make sure their walls were still strong. Satisfied that his home would be safe while he was gone, he concentrated on his destination and Disapparated with an echoing _crack!_

The foyer was as silent and still as he ever remembered it but that did not pause his movements as he walked purposefully through the various rooms. Narcissa appeared to be waiting for her son's arrival, standing expectantly by the marble fireplace, while Lucius seemed to only be waiting on another drink, both elder Malfoys turning their gazes to him when he entered the massive lounge.

"Draco!" Narcissa exclaimed, a smile turning her normally expressionless face beautiful.

"If it isn't the prodigal son, returned home," Lucius sneered, bringing his fresh drink to his lips as a House elf meekly ducked out of the room.

"Mother," Draco greeted Narcissa warmly with a kiss on the cheek. "Father," he said politely to Lucius.

"Good to see you could make it home with your extraordinarily busy schedule," the elder wizard stated sarcastically.

Narcissa shushed him, glaring over her shoulder at her husband.

"You're always welcome to pop by, dear," she amended, then gave her son a once over. "Especially when you're hungry or it's meal time. You have become much too lean."

It was Lucius's turn to scoff, the ice clinking in his glass.

"Draco looks fine, Cissa. He's probably dining all around the world, taking his fill of life's luxuries whenever he can."

Already growing tired of his father's taunting, Draco thought that Lucius was setting a record for the shortest amount of time to piss someone off. Though it was not hard to imagine that his mere presence could do that.

Knowing just what to say, he looked to his father and with eyebrows raised in innocent explanation said, "Actually I've been cooking at home more recently."

Lucius scoffed with disgust and Narcissa stifled a gasp of surprise.

"Like a Muggle?" Lucius narrowed his eyes and stood, bringing himself up to his full height. "My how far you have fallen, Draco."

A smirk smeared Draco's handsome face into a contortion of defiance. "You misunderstood, father - I have a pair of House elves to do the cooking for me." Relief slid across the Malfoy patriarch's face only to be replaced by ire as Draco added, "Though my Mudblood girlfriend does love using my kitchen for her own cooking."

Narcissa did gasp this time, the color draining from her face, while Lucius's expression turned irate before smoothing out into a dangerously calm mask.

"I wouldn't take him seriously, Cissa. Our son would love nothing more than to rile me up, but even he is not petulant enough to mar the Malfoy name with _Muggle_ blood."

One pale brow lifted in silent question, as if to ask _oh wouldn't I_ , while Draco's mouth moved into a toothless smile.

"I sometimes wonder if you really understand what I am capable of, Father."

Lucius finished off the last of his drink, placed the empty glass on a side table, and unassumingly stuffed his long fingered hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"Your mother and I have never doubted your extraordinary talent, Draco - but it would be difficult to achieve as much as you have without the financial support we provide you with. It would be such a shame for your inheritance to disappear because your loyalty to yourself and your - _needs_ is greater than your loyalty to your family."

The threat was not so subtly veiled in his words and the unperturbed air surrounding Lucius would have been enough to frighten a lesser wizard. But Draco had heard that warning enough times growing up that he would have just rolled his eyes had his father not walked up to stand in front of him.

"Draco who is this - witch that you're seeing?" Narcissa asked hurriedly, immediately attempting to diffuse the situation.

Turning a pleasant smile on his mother, Draco shook his blonde head minutely as if to say that he had been joking.

"Don't worry, Mother - you won't be getting any illegitimate grandchildren anytime soon."

Lucius scoffed, easily more irritated by his comment. Draco glanced at his father.

"You're more than welcome to ask Blaise if you don't believe my words," he told his parents as innocuously as he could manage.

Lucius made a noise somewhere between a disbelieving chuckle and a sound of disdain.

"Zabini? If he's anything like his mother, blood status is hardly a concern of his." Lucius's face twisted, the pleasant visage he wore for the public gone.

"If I am only here so that you have someone to mock, I will be more than happy to leave you to your own devices," Draco said, almost wishing he could show the disrespect that his father deserved. But he had been raised better than that.

"Come now, Draco," Narcissa soothed, turning a pleading gaze to her husband as she also said, "Lucius." There was a steel to her tone that few really heard. "We do not get many opportunities to be a family together. Both of you cool your tempers. Dinner is ready and I would hate to waste a good meal on your squabbling."

"I'm sorry, Mother," Draco apologized, moving away from his father and bending to place a kiss on Narcissa's proffered cheek.

Lucius did not offer the same remorse but softened his expression at the hard look his wife gave him.

"The food will be getting cold," the elder wizard spoke instead and strode to the partially open double doors, leaving Draco to take Narcissa's elbow to escort her to the dining room.

The too long table was set immaculately, plates stacked on top of each other in order of use and cutlery lined up accordingly. Glasses filled with water as they took their seats and their napkins laid themselves across their laps. Steaming soup appeared in the small dishes to the left of their drinks and a bright salad colored the first plate. Utensils were picked up and the only sounds to be heard in the awkward silence was the stabbing of lettuce and heavy chewing.

"How was your weekend, Draco?" Narcissa asked, breaking the tension.

Lucius looked at his son while bringing his fork to his mouth, his eyes waiting for the answer that he would not prod out of him.

"It was enjoyable," Draco answered vaguely, not at all intending to tell them that he had spent much of the past few days tinkering on several items at EME. "Relaxing."

"That is always a pleasure to hear," Narcissa replied, as if he had given her more than those few, basic adjectives.

Lucius eyed him, jealousy apparent for the first time at the mention of Draco's freedom to go out in public and not be noticeably avoided.

The salad plates disappeared scarcely a moment after Narcissa set her fork down, both men having eaten theirs quickly to avoid speaking. Their soup bowls hovered forward and the porcelain lids removed themselves as steam curled forth with the mouth watering scent of the creamy mushroom stew inside.

Several minutes later, Draco unintentionally moaned his delight at probably one of his favorite soups, earning raised brows and a smile from Narcissa and a side eye of reproach from Lucius.

"I had forgotten how delicious this was," Draco said evenly, taking another spoonful to his mouth and swallowing slowly as if to savor every bit. "I'll have to send Nina over to learn the recipe from Mara."

Lucius snorted, his spoon back in its place as his bowl already sat empty.

"Is that your Mudblood's name? _Nina_?"

Even Narcissa revealed an air of annoyance. But while she pursed her lips and cast her eyes down, Draco merely cocked his head and answered slowly.

"No. That is the name of my House elf."

His mother was aware of that small fact, but his father, never having visited Draco's townhouse, was completely ignorant of what his son's servant was called.

"It sounds as if she is an incompetent chef if she is unable to produce such an easy meal for you," Lucius stated and snapped his fingers so that the trembling female House elf, Mara, appeared next to his seat at the head of the table. "Tomorrow you will go to my son's new home and teach his elf how to make his favorite recipes."

"Yes, Master. Of course Mara will be pleased to do that for the young Mister," the House elf squeaked, her bulbous head bowing low.

"Fetch me a drink," Lucius told the small creature, thrusting his empty glass to her while his wife and son watched. "And don't put any olives in it this time."

Not a word was said in the passing minutes until Mara returned, her head dipped so low her nose was almost touching her bony chest.

"For my Master," she said shakily.

Lucius took a sip, scrunched up his face as if disgruntled that it did not taste worse, and brought the glass up to his face, his fingers lightly holding on to it so that it looked like the glass would fall to the carpet at any moment, so that he could glare at its contents instead of his son.

"Not quite as disgusting as the last one."

Mara appeared to accept the not-quite compliment while still considering punishing herself for not meeting her Master's high standards yet again.

"Send out the main course," Lucius told the House elf shortly. "And make sure this plate is hot when it arrives on my table."

"Yes, Master. Of course, Master," Mara rushed, snapping her bony fingers and disappearing lest the elder Malfoy's impatience run too thin.

"How are your rose gardens coming along, Mother?" Draco asked Narcissa, avid interest angling his shoulders towards the matriarch as Lucius rolled his eyes and sipped slowly. "Will you be winning the Society's honors again this year?"

Large silver dome covered plates materialized as if they had risen up through the table but only Lucius seemed interested in the food. Narcissa, preening proudly at the mention of the Greenfinger Society and her six year running winning streak for the Most Excellent Rose competition, smiled widely and glanced to the obscenely large picture window that overlooked her multiple rose gardens.

"I have a strong suspicion that I will have no trouble winning again this year," she hold her son happily, winking quickly.

She absently picked up her fork while maintaining Draco's gaze and simultaneously the silver domes dissolved to reveal beautifully arranged plates of lamb chops, rosemary garlic potatoes, and an assortment of bright vegetables. Freshly hot rolls appeared on a tray in the middle of the table next to an artistic array of flavored butters and herbed oils. Palm sized dishes containing various exotic fruits were sitting next to a tiny bowl of honey, a silver gravy boat, and the odd jars of jam that had appeared with the main course.

"What gives you that intuition, Mother?" Draco asked with a grin, his own fork and knife finding their way into his hands.

"I was having tea with Violet Parkinson just yesterday," Narcissa began in her hushed gossiping tone, as if someone besides her husband and son would hear her. "She is normally so secretive about what she is growing, but she had to take an urgent Floo call from Pansy and left me alone for several long minutes." Picking up her knife, she cut a potato slice in half, smirking at her plate. "Naturally, I took a look around, then a walk through her gardens."

Narcissa took a delicate bite, looking all too smug.

"What did you do, Mother?" Draco questioned with a chuckle, slicing into the pink lamb meat.

Narcissa's expression fell blank and her eyebrows knitted together.

"Oh no - I didn't do anything to her bushes." Lucius snorted but was ignored. "Her stock is not comparable to what I am growing. I have confidence that she will not be the witch to beat me if I were to have any real competition this year."

Nodding agreeably, Draco finished another lamb chop before he responded.

"You rightfully deserve that title, Mother. You could sell a single rose of yours for twenty Galleons and no one would bat an eye at the price."

"Thank you, Draco," Narcissa smiled, more genuinely than anyone outside of her family had seen for many years. "I always hope for you to be as proud of me as I am of you."

"Isn't this touching -" Lucius interjected before his son or wife could speak again and Draco realized that his drink had been refilled again. "But I shouldn't have to remind either of you that Malfoys always win, at whatever they do. Your success should not be a celebration but an expectation." He sneered so thoroughly that Draco thought it could best any of his haughty ancestor's trademark expression. "No one is better than a Malfoy."

Draco would have so slowly said, _riiiiight_ , if he was not certain that Lucius would still slap his twenty one year old son for being disrespectful.

Narcissa saved him from a mouthy response by ever so casually saying, "Speaking of which - Violet Parkinson said she had an interesting encounter in Diagon Alley earlier last week."

"Did she now?" Draco replied almost dully, knowing Violet Parkinson's definition of interesting was as wide as her daughter's.

"Apparently so," Narcissa said, in no rush to expound on the second hand story as she took small bites of lamb then carrots first.

"She had been inside Twillfit and Tatting's for a dress robes fitting - Vivi kept going on about some big event she has coming up but she would not say what it was -" She was talking to Draco but glanced at Lucius at the end of every sentence as if to mark his expression or reaction. "But as she was leaving, she saw. . Andromeda walking out of Madam Malkin's across the way with her grandson."

Well that certainly was interesting.

Even though it came through a third party, Draco had not heard his mother mention her only living sister since before Bellatrix had been killed and the War ended. He showed no reaction to her name this time either, his face neutral as he set down his fork and knife to pick up his water goblet. Nodding to show his piqued interest, Draco used the half a moment to glance at Lucius over the rim of his glass as Narcissa continued her tale.

"Vivi and Andromeda were the same year at Hogwarts, you see," she explained, cutlery returned to the table as she dabbed at her mouth with her cloth napkin. "They shared a dormitory for seven years so they had to have been fairly good friends, but after Andromeda - left, no one at all kept in contact with her."

Narcissa exhaled thickly, though Draco knew it for the maskings of a sigh. "Vivi went right up to her in Diagon Alley though. Asked about the little boy with her - she said she even offered to go for ice cream, her treat, so they could chat for a while." That bit made her chuckle faintly though it fell silent as her crystalline blue eyes went from her son to her husband. "Andromeda told her no - and I'm sure that upset Vivi to no end since she hardly ever offers to pay for someone else. She told her they were only there to get little Teddy measured for new robes, that they had lessons of some sort to get to."

There was a long moment where no one said anything.

"You know," Lucius drawled, his words drawn out as if it had been too long since he had last spoke and he was relishing in the attention they turned on him. "It is not at all unlikely that you will see a witch or wizard you know when you visit Wizarding London. It does happen that we are a small community."

Draco almost had to bite his tongue to keep from sarcastically saying, _Yes Captain Obvious_. Instead, he met his father's arrogant gaze and richly said, "That's not something I'm sure you're familiar with these days, Father."

Any color added to Lucius's pale cheeks through the flush of liquor drained and his knuckles turned white as he squeezed the handle of a butter knife.

"Vivi also said the boy was changing the color of his hair at whim," Narcissa said as father and son stared each other down.

That tit of information broke the unblinking look, both glancing back to her at nearly the same moment. One attempting to hide his surprise and the other seeming mildly impressed, the latter appearing to have been right about something that he smirked at.

"In the middle of the street?" Lucius sounded appalled. "Did your _sister_ discipline him?"

"He's not even four," Narcissa sounded equally as appalled by his suggestion.

Sliding his gaze between his parents, Draco knew he would have both of them looking back at him once he said, "He's an Metamorphmagus. Like his mother was."

Comprehension dawned on Narcissa's face while Lucius scowled further.

"That certainly explains it," his mother replied, appearing thoughtful for a moment before she said, "I had a great great aunt who was an Metamorphmagus."

"How did you know about the boy's mother?" Lucius asked skeptically, turning sharp eyes on Draco.

"I saw her do it," he stated simply. "Before the Death Eaters entered Hogwarts before the battle - she was stationed inside the castle but when chaos let loose on the grounds, she transformed from an average looking student into herself."

"Did you know who she was?" Narcissa asked curiously.

"I had a suspicion of how she was related to me when I heard the name," Draco said, twirling his crystal glass between his fingers as his silver eyes watched the moving rim. "But Potter confirmed it - right before they gathered the students in the Great Hall and sent all of the Slytherins away."

Lucius's sneer somehow became more pronounced.

"Harry Potter," his father said the name with as much venom as Draco did, hatred coating the words like acid. "Isn't he the little Halfbreed's godfather?"

"Apparently so," Narcissa said, folding her napkin and placing it next to her plate to indicate that she was finished with her meal.

"Good lot of luck that will bring the kid," Draco added. "Potter couldn't find his way out of a paper bag without help - Merlin help the child whose life he is involved in."

But the usual loathing that dripped from any word in the same sentence or breath as "Potter" did not match that of his father. Instead the prominent mental image in his mind was of Ginny Weasley. They were essentially one in the same, Potter and the little Weasley, and Draco did not find it unreasonable for himself to think of her alongside thoughts of Scarhead. Especially since he then realized that he would be seeing the redheaded witch in just a few short days.

Narcissa made a tutting noise at the back of her throat as if she were going to reprimand her son, but silently pursed her lips and said nothing else pertaining to her sister.

"Mara!" Lucius yelled, his plates clanking as he pushed them away, disgust wrinkling his face. The House elf popped into the room, shaking as per usual in her Master's presence. "Bring me another drink. And clear these filthy dishes away. We have been finished eating now for several minutes. If you can accomplish that, then you will certainly be competent enough to bring dessert and tea to us in the library as well."

The House elf's squeaking, "Yes Master, Mara would be pleased to serve Master however he wishes, Master," was nearly too muffled to be heard as her long nose almost brushed the carpet in her haste to bow apologetically.

"Come on, boy," Lucius told Draco after both the elf and the dishes had disappeared from the room, getting to his feet as several joints and bones creaked. One hand grabbed his glass with its watery contents. The other gripped Draco's shoulder and squeezed it painfully tight. "Join me in the library. I can show you how to win a game of Wizard's Chess while you explain to me why you're wasting your Galleons on that pitiful excuse for a home."

His father's tone left no room for disagreement. Nor did the firm grasp of his shoulder that only grabbed harder until he pushed back away from the table as if to stand up. But Draco looked to his mother questioningly before he too stood to leave the room.

"Go on, dear," Narcissa told her son. "I'll be along shortly. I would like to check on my rose bushes first. Then I shall join you in the library for a nightcap."

"Alright, Mother," Draco agreed, getting to his feet and taking a step to the side so that Lucius's hand fell away from his shoulder. He walked around the table, bent at the waist, and placed a kiss to her powdered cheek. "Enjoy your stroll."

Narcissa smiled warmly, though tiredness kept the expression from reaching her eyes, and said, "I will."

"Father -" Draco started, but Lucius was already through the double doors and walking down the hallway.

Sighing heavily to himself and ignoring his mother's slight chuckle, Draco set off in the same path as his father. Hopefully this wouldn't take all night. He was already ready to strangle Lucius - he did not want to think about what could happen when they reached their peak disagreement levels.

Merlin help him - for the first time in his life, he was excited to see the dawning of a Monday.

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 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! Leave a review if you liked it. I do so enjoy it when you enjoy it as much as i do writing it.


	9. The Other Seeker

**18 September 2001**

Tuesday felt like a Monday.

And Monday - it had felt like torture.

But Ginny knew that's how the days went when the Harpies had a match coming up.

These two long days had been no different. With their rescheduled match with the Appleby Arrows set for the next evening, the Harpies had been on the pitch practicing from dusk to dawn. Coach Beall had set the strenuous schedule after he had announced that they would uncharacteristically have all of Sunday off. No one complained, but Ginny thought someone was bound to crack once he told them to do several laps after the sun had gone down that night.

There were very disgruntled faces but not a witch said a word about how badly they were aching or how eager they were to get to the locker room to shower. Until the sweating and exhausted team made it through the double doors off the pitch, then several voices rang out with their displeasure.

"I thought he was going to keep us out there all night."

"If he made us do one more bloody drill, I was going to chuck the Bludger at him."

"I'm so tired I may end up sleeping through the match tomorrow."

Ginny was opening her mouth to add her two Knuts when Glenda pushed wide the metal door into the locker room and Gwenog Jones came into view. Hands on her hips and scowl on her face, the sight of her caused the players to bottleneck at the door as they each paused when they saw her.

"Come on now, we haven't got all night," she said impatiently, one foot tapping on the carpeted floor.

One by one the rest of the Harpies filled into the long, white walled room, each tentatively walking to their cubbie and putting their brooms away. When all ten women were assembled, the Captain spoke.

"I saw the last bit of practice and I hate to admit that I wasn't completely embarrassed by what I saw."

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and widened her stance, blanking her expression as she prepared for a haughty, put-down speech. But her movement drew Gwenog's attention and the Captain's dark gaze settled on her.

"Hopefully Weasley will be able to catch the Snitch quick enough during the match that any mistakes made elsewhere can be forgotten."

Oh how Ginny wished Gwenog would look away so she could roll her eyes. But the other witch hardly blinked and Ginny knew she was not going to break the stare either.

"But while she is taking her sweet time to locate the Snitch, everyone else must remain on their posts. Every Quaffle dropped will amount to five laps in practice. Any Bludger that doesn't hit its mark will be five laps. If a goal is scored - another five laps. If your talent isn't enough to win the match, then punishment for losing will have to suffice."

Gwenog spoke so fervently that it was hard to imagine any of the players not believing that she could disciple them for their mistakes, even in her own absence. But with her eyes never leaving Ginny's, the redheaded witch felt like her Captain was indirectly telling her that the entire match depended on her. She could save them from extra laps if she just caught the Snitch soon enough. Then it wouldn't matter if Gracie Hargraves, the Keeper, let in goals on her right because she was slower on that side due to the healing of a torn muscle in her shoulder. It wouldn't hurt them as much if the two Beaters, Sarah Badlin and Georgette Sumerton, the two witches sometimes lovers, were not exactly on the same page that particular day.

No, Ginny could save them all by just catching the Snitch.

A tiny voice in the back of her head told her that she knew how Gwenog was, that this hard headed speech was nothing new, and that her team would do just fine to win the match without her imposing words the night before. But Ginny was infuriated. Gwenog had played Seeker her entire Quidditch career, back to Hogwarts. She was well aware of the pressure that came with the position. She knew exactly how difficult it could be to spot the Snitch, even in the best of weather.

Telling a Seeker that they could be the one to make it a quick game if they just did their job was akin to saying everything in life would be easier if you could just use magic. Both were simple statements and both were easier said than done.

Gwenog finally broke their gaze as her eyes went around the room from player to player, her ebony ponytail swishing across her shoulders as her neck twisted. The portion of her brain that needed to rationalize everything told Ginny that maybe she was being groomed for future Captaincy. Maybe Gwenog was being hard on her because she could actually see long-term Seeker potential in her. But as Gwenog barreled through her analyzations of the other team and their player's weaknesses, that thought had Ginny tuning her out.

There was no way, in any uncertain terms, that she would agree to take the position of Seeker when the great Gwenog Jones finally retired.

Ginny would talk to the owners of the team if she had to. Gwenog could train someone else to sit on their broom and wait to see the Snitch. She was not going to do it any longer than they needed her to while their Seeker and Captain was unable to play because of the Quidditch World Cup. She wanted to be flying as fast as she could, dipping and dodging as she Chased and scored. As she had once told Harry, she preferred the Quaffle to the Snitch.

"... I will not be able to attend the match tomorrow night but do not think, for even one second, that I will not know every pass, every goal, every single mistake you make out there," Gwenog was passionately telling her teammates, still berating them for little less than the fact that she could. She wanted the best for her team but her brash personality often made those intentions seem a bit - harsher. "I want the Harpies to make it to the Championship this season and winning tomorrow's match is the next step to get there. We can move to second place in our division with a win tomorrow and the next match; and when I return, we will make the final push to end up on top and in the running for the Cup. We will show the entire league - the entire world that witches can play the game best."

For all of her bossiness and hard edges, Gwenog Jones was excellent at empowering speeches. She knew the tone and effects needed to rile them up, the words and passion necessary to energize and excite their minds and bodies. Even then, after the witches had been on the pitch for seven hours, their eyes were widening with fervor and several of them made noises of approval as their Captain paused.

"I believe this team can win tomorrow. And I believe we can go to the Championship - and win that too." Gwenog looked at every player in turn and for that brief moment, Ginny saw the glossy picture of her childhood idol and inspiration to play Quidditch come to life. Her heart swelled with emotion in vast contrast to the very slight smile she wore. "I know every one of you has it in you - the drive to succeed, the desire to be the best - otherwise you wouldn't be in this room right now. I want you to show that tomorrow - bring that emotion and that enthusiasm. Because we will win, and we will beat every other team in the whole league if we have to."

Ginny was nodding along with the rest of the team, her hands itching to start clapping where she kept them firmly behind her back. Gwenog relaxed her own arms and made a fist that she held out in front of her.

"Bring it in," the short but fierce Captain told her fellow players.

Quicker than would be assumed since they were all moments ago complaining about their aching bodies, the sweaty and dirty witches placed their hands one on top of the next to form a tightly packed circle with the tower of fingers in the center. The locker room became near silent as they exchanged glances, a sudden air of excitement putting smiles on every face as if they alone were in on a secret together.

"Harpies on three," Gwenog said, the ghost of a conspiratorial grin momentarily giving life to her expressionless facade. "One, two -"

"HARPIES!" The entire team shouted as one.

There was a mixture of laughter and whoops of enthusiasm and several players hugged quickly. Gwenog took on her normal slightly displeased appearance but moved towards the door after a glance at her watch.

"Wash up and get home," she told her players, one hand on the door handle. "And don't even think about being late to run-throughs in the morning."

The heavy door _swooshed_ behind her as she took off down the long hallway, her form a smaller figure with each slow pass of the swinging door. Normal levels of conversation returned to the locker room and the women were soon disrobing and turning on the showers. Ginny stripped down and grabbed a fluffy towel, aching knees and stiff hands eager for the relief of a good, long steam.

 **. . . . .**

It was just past ten o'clock when Ginny Apparated home. The only light that she could see from the front door was a warm circle of illumination from the bulb over the stove in the kitchen. Not a sound interrupted the silence of the flat, even the ticking of the large clock in the living room remained mute.

Harry's traveling cloak was thrown over the coat rack to her left, the only indication that he was somewhere in the flat. With hardly the energy to wonder where he might be, Ginny tossed her robes over his and placed her small backpack on the floor beneath them. The amount of effort she had left in her body propelled her to the kitchen where she filed a glass with water and gulped it down in seconds.

Too weary even to check the strength of the wards, she ambled through the dark rooms until the sounds of Harry's light snoring broke the silence. Pushing open the not-quite-shut bedroom door, she paused to stare at the sleeping man on the bed.

Obviously not intending to fall asleep when he laid down, Harry's lips were parted and his glasses were slightly askew, a book laid open across the rise and fall of his chest. One arm spread over to her side of the bed, his palm face up as if waiting for her fingers to slip between his. He was at least comfortable in sweat pants and a faded t-shirt, though the angle of his dark head tilted back would surely bring a crink to his neck.

Hardly wanting to exert the effort and time to remove her clothes, Ginny pulled her wand out of its pocket on her pants and gave it a flourish before placing it on the nightstand next to her refilled glass of water. Comfortably naked, she grabbed Harry's book and delicately removed his glasses, placing both out of harm's way, and slid underneath the thick covers. She could feel the pull of sleep and it wasn't but a moment before her light snores echoed Harry's.

A very familiar dream was slipping into the last depths of her unconscious mind as feeling and sound gently woke her up the next morning. Ginny blinked slowly, her eyes half opening, as she rolled onto her side and into a pocket of warmth. The sheets were cool where she slid her hand across to Harry's side of the bed, her fingers curling back in on themselves as her eyes squeezed shut tightly.

She had no way of knowing what time it was but her alarm had yet to go off, and Harry was out of bed. Two sure signs that it was still early enough for her to fall back asleep. But no sooner had she errantly thought that and her mind returned to its half awake state did the shrill beeping begin, giving her a jolt as she scrambled to stop the noise.

Fully alert and grumpily sitting up, Ginny rubbed at the sleep still in her eyes as a yawn stretched her mouth wide. Not even out of bed yet and she was already tired.

There was little time to reminisce about the wonderfulness of her bed though. As fluffy and inviting as the rumpled sheets were, she needed to eat breakfast and get dressed before she had to leave for the Harpies early morning run through slash practice. Literally dragging herself from the depths of the comforter, Ginny made quick work of stretching her limbs and loosening her muscles. No use getting on a broom if she was stiff as a board.

After a steaming bowl of oatmeal and once she had doned her less than pristine practice gear, Ginny packed her backpack with her necessary shrunken Quidditch supplies, pulled her thick red hair back into a tight braid, and mentally ran through the lineup for the Arrows. As Chaser she would have needed to worry about Markson and Claayton with their near excellent marksmanship for throwing the Bludgers but she had less of an idea what tactics their Seeker, Hornbee, would employ. Granted, there wasn't too great a variety of tactics that could be used when fighting for the Snitch, and Ginny felt she would have heard by now if the gangly German-born wizard was known to be underhanded on the pitch, but she was confident in her own abilities all the same. She could hold her own as well as any veteran in the league.

The sun was shining brightly when she arrived at the stadium but the thick winds and wispy clouds foretold of the possible overcast conditions later in the day. Near perfect weather for Quidditch she hoped.

"Morning," Ginny greeted her teammates with a weak smile, glancing at each of the witches in turn before placing her broom at her feet and bending one arm so that it locked at the elbow with the other straight arm, the muscles stretching.

"Jus' in th' nick oh time, eh Weasley?" Mary Gavin-White, her temporary replacement Chaser, said haughtily, her brand new robes wrinkling as she too stretched her arms.

"Come off it - ye only walked in two minutes ago," Wilda Griffiths snapped, clearly irritated with the young witch.

"I'm nah th' last one 'ere," Gavin-White blustered, her face reddening from more than just the force of the wind.

"No, but you're the least liked," Sarah Badlin chimed in, straightening up from where she had been bent over touching her toes.

"And the rookie on the team," Georgette Sumerton piped up, one pale eyebrow arched as she smirked. "So you can go get the box of balls from the equipment room and bring it out here before Coach arrives."

Gavin-White nearly growled in frustration when none of the other players came to her defense but turned around sharply to go back inside as instructed.

It wasn't until her distant figure slid past the metal double doors and disappeared into the interior stadium that the pair of Beaters cackled with laughter. Badlin reached into the pocket of her robe and casually tossed an object out, the small box magically growing larger as it toppled end over end to land perfectly on the grass with a sharp click as the lid popped open.

Ginny laughed too, not at all surprised with their trickery.

"Poor girl is going to look everywhere for those," she told her teammates as Gracie Hargraves unsnapped the leather straps and the three larger balls took off into the air.

Sumerton shrugged, glancing at Badlin with a wink. "She's too proud for her own good. You know she told us she thinks she's going to replace you permanently? Even once Gweong comes back."

Ginny chuckled harder, more than slightly annoyed with the rookie now than she was a moment ago. If this wasn't a pre-game practice she would temporarily return to her position and show the cocky witch why she was the number one Chaser on the Harpies.

"I'd like her to tell Coach Beall that," she responded casually, slipping her fingers into her gloves and securing them tightly. "Maybe if she could score more than one goal every few games she could consider doing more than riding the bench."

"Who's telling me what?" came a deep voice from behind the assembled players and at least one of them jumped slightly. "Hopefully why you're not all in the air already."

"Oy!" A shout came from the far side of the pitch where they all turned to see Gavin-White striding purposefully towards them. "Who's ruddy idea was it to send me on a bloody Unicorn hunt to find the balls!? I'm going to string you up by your toes and feed you to an Acromantula, Georgette!" Sumerton coughed loudly with a hand over her mouth to hide her wide smile. Coach Beall glanced between the witch nearer to him and the one coming closer, silver brows knitting together as if unimpressed by the display of childishness. "When I tell Coach that you purposefully sent me off the pitch so I couldn't practice with -"

But her heated words died off as the team parted to reveal Coach Beall staring blankly at his youngest player.

"While it is admirable that you would take it upon yourself to find and capture an Acromantula -" Coach Beall began, none too pleased with the attitude from the rookie. "I think your energy would be better spent getting on your broom and practicing before I have to find yet another Chaser to replace Weasley for the time being."

Gavin-White's cheeks were so flaming red Ginny thought she might combust. The newest player on the team glared daggers at her fellow Chasers and the two Beaters before she mumbled a not-so-apologetic _Sorry_ and hastily grabbed her broom.

"Everyone in the air! We have a match tonight and standing here running your mouths will do nothing to help us win!"

His sudden shouting seemed to push the witches into action, every single one of them hurrying to get their broom between their legs and their feet off the ground. Only when they were circling the pitch in a loose group did Ginny dare to share a knowing look with her Chasers; a glance that acknowledged the unified force of their position and the bond that had developed in the immense span of time they had spent together. Temporarily replaced or not, Ginny would always be considered the third leg of the Chaser trio.

High noon brought the team back to the ground and the end of "light" pre-match practice session. The three hour block had not really been strenuous. A twenty minute scrimmage had become more competitive than it ought to but otherwise, the witches alternated between focusing on each individual position and lazily floating in midair while Coach Beall drew plays with the sparks from the end of his wand.

They were to report back to the stadium at four o'clock to dress and ready for the match. Though the balls would not go into the air until five thirty, both teams would meet on the pitch at five before the pregame ceremony started.

Ginny returned home just before half twelve after turning down Sumerton and Badlin's invitation to join them for lunch in Diagon Alley. She suspected that they were more intent on planning a team vacation than relaxing before the match and she knew that they would be able to coordinate a fantastic getaway without her input. Besides, she needed to focus her mind and get rid of all of the distractions floating through her thoughts.

Those couple of hours flew by as quickly as she did when she was intent on the goalposts with a Quaffle under her arm. After a filling lunch and a bit of meditation, Ginny went in search of a long sleeved tunic to wear underneath her Quidditch robes and ended up reorganizing her closet. Satisfied with the small pile of clothing that she intended to give away, she hopped in the shower then proceeded to braid her hair again while her buttons did themselves and the laces tightened on her boots. A peek inside her bag verified that her gloves, goggles, and a change of clothes were still packed. With nothing else to do and too little time to do anything, Ginny slung the leather strap over her shoulder and readied herself to Apparate. At least she was only traveling to Wales - any farther and the team would have to commute together.

The players entrance on the back side of the stadium was quiet when she arrived, though Ginny could easily make out the sounds of footsteps and the low roar of a growing crowd in the stands above. There was a palpable buzz in the air, an electric current that skimmed over her bare arms and made the hairs stand up.

It was almost game time.

An enormous rush of excitement tinged with nerves hit her square in the chest as she walked towards the lone security wizard guarding the door.

"Afternoon Louis," Ginny said to the balding man with a beaming smile.

"I got five Galleons on the Harpies, Weasley," Louis told her with a pointed look. "You better be winning today."

The small paunch of his stomach bulged as he leaned on what she knew was his good leg. She also knew that he had a long seeded loathing for the Arrows and would love nothing more than to see them beat. With a wink and a wider smile, Ginny turned sideways and continued past him.

"I'll do my best, Louis." She moved down the hallway but glanced back over her shoulder. "Enjoy the match."

Trainers and massage therapists littered the long, winding hallway that circled the entire base of the stadium. Passing offices and meeting rooms, bathrooms and specialized workout rooms, Ginny made it to the discrete metal door for the locker room as the noises above grew louder. Pushing it open with her shoulder, she was quite surprised to almost immediately run into Healer Leisque. Though she quickly thought she had as much right to be there as Ginny did.

"Good evening," Healer Leisque said with a tight lipped smile.

"Hello," Ginny responded, shifting her bag on her shoulder.

There was an awkward pause wherein Ginny was distracted by the movement of a player coming towards them.

"Monica," the witch said, the name oozing with impatience and Ginny glanced over the Healer's shoulder to see Gavin-White strutting over. "What's taking so long? I need to start getting dressed and -"

She stopped when she saw Ginny standing behind the Healer, a smirk blooming across her pinched face.

"Well if it isn't Weasley - finally on time I see," the young rookie taunted, earning a glance between the two from the witch in the middle.

"If you're not early, you're late," Ginny answered happily, an unperturbed grin brightening her freckled face.

"Words I'm sure you could learn to live by," Gavin-White said dismissively, looking to Healer Leisque as if still waiting for something. "Did you find that brace thing you were looking for? I don't have time to waste."

One copper eyebrow arched. "Since you don't really have to do anything until the rest of the team gets here," Ginny interjected before the Healer could draw another breath, gesturing with a nod of her head to the mostly empty locker room behind them. "I don't think there's any need to rush whatever it is that you're doing with the Healer."

"I was just preparing this stretchy medical wrap -" Healer Leisque showed them a fat roll of beige fabric that she seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. "Mary bruised a muscle this morning and I want to make sure it has the least amount of jostling as possible tonight."

Gavin-White seemed embarrassed by the admission of even a slight injury and sneered remarkably well to distract from the nerves that were showing themselves more clearly.

"Don't worry, Weasley - it won't stop me from scoring a dozen goals."

"I'd hope not," Ginny stated as sincerely as she could manage, her eyes widening for the effect. "Gwenog would have your hide if she knew you weren't up to snuff because of an injury but you still played anyways."

That realization drained all color from the rookie's face. For a moment Gavin-White almost looked panicked before a slightly more calm, though still anxious, mask slid back into place.

"Come on, Monica," she beckoned to the Healer, turning away from Ginny as she shoved her nose up into the air haughtily. "We don't have time to waste."

The taller witch appraised her with a scrutinizing eye as if unsure how to categorize her - potential ally or passing acquaintance - but decided it didn't much matter after Gavin-White screeched " _Monica!_ " from across the long room.

"Good luck tonight," Healer Leisque told Ginny with an almost imperceptible nod and moved away towards the very impatient Chaser.

"You too," Ginny replied, giving a nod to Gavin-White when the Healer glanced back questioningly. "You need it more than I do."

There was a twitching at the corners of her plump lips but Healer Leisque hardly broke her stride or expression. Ginny shrugged, muttering to herself, "You do," and let her backpack slid off her arm as she slowly walked to her cubbie on the opposite wall.

By five minutes to five, there was a literal buzz of excitement and energy pumping through the Harpies locker room. Every single witch was smiling and laughing and exuding varying levels of complete happiness for the match that they were about to play in. Quidditch was what they lived for and the slow minutes before they took to the pitch were the moments that amplified their nerves the most. But that was what made it so exciting.

Trying not to look like an overeager child waiting by the door, Ginny took her place at the front of the queue of players and waited for the others to line up behind her. Coach Beall called them to attention and the other witches quickly followed suit.

"Are you ready?" Valmai Morgan clapped her on the shoulder, grinning widely.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Ginny replied, enthusiasm leaking through with the barest hint of nerves.

"Look sharp!" Coach Beall shouted as he came to stand next to Ginny and the door, his heavily lined eyes narrowed as he glanced at his team.

A low rumble of _Ooohhh Aahhhh_ started at the back of the line where the Beaters swayed, their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders as they chanted. The noise grew louder and louder until even Coach Beall was murmuring the chorus and the entire team was bursting with readiness. It was about to reach a crescendo of excitement when the metal door was pulled open and the sounds of the stadium met the noise of the locker room. Everything seemed to amplify for a moment and her ears felt like they had cotton shoved inside them before the rush against her senses normalized and everything just seemed loud.

"Let's go!" Coach Beall called and he strutted into the hallway, leading the team towards the pitch and the cacophony of the upcoming match.

Flashes of light and magic lit the stadium, the sun sitting low in the sky bathing half the pitch in shadows. There was a resounding roar as the Harpies moved as one across the grassy field. Ginny felt the emotion swell in her chest and she had to grip the handle of her broom tighter to keep from taking off up into the sky. There was little else in the world that felt as exhilarating as the cheers of the crowd and the thrill of a match.

The Appleby Arrows were approaching the center of the pitch from the opposite side of the stadium and as both teams met in the middle, contemptuous looks were shared. A black and white striped referee stood between the two groups, the leather trunk at her feet bouncing with the unspent energy of the game balls. As both sides moved to form straight lines facing each other, the ref placed the tip of her wand to her throat and murmured the Sonorous Charm. A staticky buzz filled the hidden speakers around the stadium and the crowd stilled their excitement as they took their seats.

"Good evening! And welcome! It is the pleasure of the International Confederation of Wizard's Quidditch Committee to bring you this match tonight between the Holyhead Harpies and the Appleby Arrows!"

There was another roar of enthusiasm from the assembled crowd. Patches of emerald and gold bled into the smaller sections of pale blue and silver. Ginny glanced around, narrowing her gaze to read the homemade signs and smirk at the jeers, while the referee continued speaking, introducing the captains of both teams and unnecessarily explaining the basic rules. She tuned out the shaking of hands, the coin toss to determine who got which goal posts, and the declaration that the match would begin after a presentation from an ICWQC representative.

All she was waiting for was the whistle that told her to get on her broom and go.

Finally the coaches walked off the pitch and the referee stood ready next to the trunk at her feet. She gave one sharp whistle to indicate that the players should get on their brooms and the shrill sound was music to her ears. Hardly bothering to wait for the second whistle that commenced the game, Ginny threw one leg over her broom, gripped the handle, and gave a hard push off the ground.

The wind whipped against her face as she climbed higher and higher until the oval of the pitch sat several hundred feet below her. Turning around to pause, Ginny glanced down and saw the other players take off like scattering ants as the four balls flew into the air and the game began.

The Snitch was zooming off in the direction of the stands and she made the knee jerk reaction to follow it but the sun caught her eye and she had to look away. Glancing to where the other Seeker, Hornbee, was hovering behind his own team's goalposts, she relaxed momentarily. He was sure to be watching her movements and she was not eager to lead him to the Snitch, unintentionally or not.

Feigning a look around, Ginny dipped low to lay nearly parallel to her broom and began an almost lazy lap around the perimeter of the pitch. Not one to usually be distracted by the goings on of the game, she couldn't help but to watch as Morgan lobbed the Quaffle to Griffiths as Sumerton let her bat swing at her side just below them. A blue clad Beater, Markson she knew by the faint number _8_ on his back, hurried to meet the Bludger that was hurtling towards the player holding the Quaffle. Bringing his arm back, Ginny gasped instead of yelling to watch out as Markson's bat made a resounding _crack_ as it connected with the Bludger. The black ball spun dizzily as it flew in the other direction to where Ginny saw Gavin-White just barely catch the Quaffle.

She could not have seen the ball coming towards her and Ginny was unsurprised to watch the weight of the inky Bludger hit Gavin-White's broom just above where her fingers were wrapped around the handle. The Quaffle fell from her grasp as the crowd roared with approval and displeasure at the play, the red ball falling rapidly before it was grabbed out of the air by a blur of blue. She knew what was coming next but it did not make her stomach flop any more gracefully as the Quaffle soared through the left goal and the stands came alive with screaming and stomping feet.

"Macree scores!" One of the commentators proclaimed excitedly. "Ten - zero for the Arrows."

Ginny swore to herself. This could be a long match.

Cruelly thinking that she could have already scored twice, Ginny sat up just enough to get a better view of both the pitch and the open skies around her. There was not a rush to find the Snitch just yet but if she did not remain vigilant, the game would literally slip through her fingers. Gripping the broom handle as if to focus herself, she began a series of looping patterns with the rest of the game playing out beneath her.

But barely twenty minutes had passed when the second commentator yelled " _Goal!_ " again and proclaimed that the score was now _30 - 0_.

Griffiths had lost the Quaffle when the Arrows Beater, Claayton, had "accidentally" run into her full on. Ginny heard the sarcasm in her opponent's voice, even from her position above the crowds, when she told the referee that she had been unable to brake. The piss poor excuse was enough to make Ginny wish she had her own Beater's bat but she was admittedly pleased as she watched Gavin-White "accidentally" fly close enough to the haughty Arrows Beater to send her sideways on her broom with a carefully jabbed elbow.

"Morgan scores!" rang out across the lively stadium and Ginny whipped her head around to watch Valmai shoot away from the Arrows goals, a triumphant smile smearing her face. "And the Harpies are on the board! 30 - 10."

Ginny pursed her lips, finding her determination to locate the Snitch as just a moment later the second commentator eagerly added, "James lobs one in! Arrows up 40 to 10!"

Hornbee flew near enough that Ginny could see his middle finger proudly displayed for her and she responded with her own "go fuck yourself" gesture before they flew off in opposite directions.

At the one hour mark the score had increased to _60 - 20_.

Ginny could not fault any of her Chasers for the lack of goals because the Arrows Beaters seemed to have the Bludgers constantly attached to their throwing hands. Markson and Claayton were admittedly remarkable in their positions and even Gavin-White's thrice over fumbles could not be blamed on clumsiness. Hornbee had not spotted the Snitch but continued to alternate between the goal posts, taunting Hargraves at one end and loudly bashing the Harpies with his own Keeper, Montez, at the other end. Ginny would have shouted her annoyance at his lack of effort but his arrogance gave her a wide open opportunity to find the Snitch without him on her tail.

When the commentators noted the end of the second hour of play, the score had jumped to _120 - 20_.

Ginny saw Coach Beall throw his clipboard to the ground in frustration when Quigley scored another goal and the Arrows added ten more points to their lead. He yelled a string of obscenities to Griffiths as she flew by and mercifully, she threw the Quaffle with enough spin that it curved around Montez as the green and gold clad fans roared enthusiastically around them. The Harpies were down by ninety points now and if Ginny didn't spot the Snitch soon, the final outcome of the game would not be good for the Harpies.

Thankfully, though her teammates were beginning to look bedraggled, they had scored twice more by the start of the fourth hour of play. The Arrows had scored once more too but Badlin and Sumerton seemed to have nonverbally devised a plan of attack and were able to retain contact with the Bludgers more than Markson and Claayton.

 _140 - 50_

The scoreboard blinked brightly against the now darkened sky, flashing advertisements and upcoming matches amongst game statistics and the ever increasing goal totals.

It had become slightly more difficult to spot any glimmer of the Snitch against the inky night sky and Ginny repeatedly attempted to not become frustrated with her lack of contribution. Her butt was numb enough that she wanted to catch that little golden ball just to be able to get off her broom and stretch. Unfortunately there was no end in sight until she had the Snitch in her sights.

More to get a wider vantage than because she had spotted anything, Ginny flew lower until she was just a few feet from the ground. Laying low on her broom, she took a slow lap around the base of the pitch while the other players darted around above her. A glint of gold that couldn't be a camera flash at this height caught her eye and she took off in its direction, paying no attention to the cheering crowd that erupted as another goal was scored. Ginny swept across the field, gaining speed as she turned the broom against the curve of the stadium. She was nearly on top of the spot where she had seen the blip of gold when a tiny, warm light blinked unassumingly.

"Bloody fucking hell," Ginny swore to herself, angry that she had mistaken a Flying Glow Worm for the Snitch, and nearly screamed when she heard a commentator yell, "Arrows goal!"

Palms sweating and her nerves returning to flutter sickly in her stomach, Ginny felt a panic creep across her shoulders as she realized the Harpies were down by 110 points.

The game was on her shoulders now. She had to find the Snitch. There was no other option.

But the sudden anxiety she felt growing expanded largely when the Quaffle was stripped from Morgan's hands and Macree sped down the pitch to easily score again.

She half expected to hear the whistle blow, knowing Coach Beall was not above pausing play for a timeout, but the shrill noise never came and she realized why when she glanced at the nearly hidden bench and saw her Coach with a hand covering his surely irate face. Their locker room after the match was not going to be a pleasant place to be.

"Not looking too good for ya, Weasley," a taunting voice jeered nearby and Ginny whipped her head to the left to see the tail end of Hornbee's broom fly by as he zoomed away from her. Not thinking about the other Seeker's tactic to distract her, she gave an imaginary kick to speed up and quickly caught up to him.

"All I have to do is catch the Snitch and your team's goals will mean nothing," Ginny shouted with more confidence than she felt at the moment.

A bark of laughter carried along the wind as Hornbee dipped, smoothly turning against the noise of the crowd.

"You'd have to spot it first for that to happen," the other Seeker leered, a too wide smirk contorting his face as a shout of "James scores!" reverberated through the pitch.

Ginny became more determined than ever, barreling after him then inching forward so that she was neck and neck with Hornbee.

"Maybe you should go back to Chasing, Weasley," he called loudly as they stayed side by side, passing over the commentators box and circling around a wind whipped banner. "Maybe then your team would have a chance of winning for once."

Feigning a lean to her right, Ginny brought her elbow up into Hornbee's chin just as she straightened up on her broom. Blood bloomed immediately, spurting to color the now irate face of the other Seeker. Chuckling as she took off in the exact opposite direction, she almost hooted her exhilaration when yet another goal was scored by the Arrows. That alone would have been bad enough - the Harpies were now losing by a staggering 140 points - but Ginny glanced down at her teammates just as Gavin-White pulled back an arm and squarely hit Claayton on the jaw. Quite a feat in and of itself when you were on a broom but it was made worse by the fact that the referee blew her whistle and called for a penalty shot.

The sea of greens and blues wavered in the stands, the fans jumping excitedly or taking their seat with a sense of defeat. Ginny knew exactly how the latter felt.

Gracie Hargraves hovered in front of the middle goal post, doing her best to look intimidating, as James floated near the center of the pitch, a smirk on his face and the ready Quaffle underneath his arm. The referee glanced between the two players, waited for a nod from both of them, and blew a single whistle. Everything seemed to fall quiet for just a moment - in the space of an inhalation the stadium held its breath until the Arrows Chaser inched forward, then darted off in an uneven line. The cheers sounded just as loud as they should but the actions on the pitch seemed to move in slow motion.

As if her heart wasn't already in her throat, the short burst of electric excitement because of the penalty shot nearly fried her nerves. Ginny could do nothing but watch as James zigzagged to the goal, turned himself sideways as he stopped short, pulled his arm back, and tossed the Quaffle with amazingly accurate dexterity into the very center of the right goal. Hargraves had a finger just brush the red leathery skin as she stretched to block the shot but her efforts to defend her posts were half a second late. Once more the Arrows had scored.

 _200 - 50_ the scoreboard blinked mockingly at her.

Now completely furious with herself for not having caught the Snitch yet, Ginny flew above the stadium to a height that surveyed the pitch more clearly. Sitting up straight and closing her eyes, she focused on emptying her mind. All she had to do was find that little golden ball and she could tie the game. There wasn't any time left for her to wait for her teammates to score another goal - even if it meant they could win instead of draw. She had to find it now before they lost completely.

"Macree has the Quaffle!" A commentator yelled excitedly. "He swerves around Gavin-White - ooohhh close call as Sumerton misses with a Bludger! Macree dips - and turns! And he shoots! - ahh and Hargraves is there to block the shot this time… "

Ginny's heart started beating again as she followed the movement of the Quaffle with her eyes. Morgan had whipped back to circle behind their goal posts, looping around the base of the middle pole before taking off down the pitch just a few feet from the ground. And that was when Ginny saw it.

The Snitch was hovering against the golden background of a Harpies banner near an almost imperceptible door in the paneling along the curve of the oval shaped arena. Only her angle from above, so that the gold wings fluttered against an emerald portion of the banner instead of blending in, permitted her the vantage of noticing the slight bit of movement. There wasn't an available to second to glance around for Hornbee's position - she had to go for it.

Kicking at the air and gripping the handle tightly, she took off. As if by some stroke of luck the Snitch did not move - not when she tipped her broom down to dive, not when she saw a portion of the crowd track her movements with dawning comprehension.

The wind tore against her face and grabbed at her robes, blowing harder as her intent became apparent to the whole stadium. The Snitch buzzed off towards the Arrows goal posts and she gave chase. Ginny inched forward on her broom, knees clenched to hold her balance. Her right hand loosened its grasp, preparing to reach for that elusive golden ball when it was near enough.

It flew around the curve of the oval pitch, seeming to dance as it fluttered up and down while it moved forward. But Ginny was gaining speed and closing the distance as she cut a straight line past the tall trio of posts.

 _Almost -_

A sudden shock of rumbling cheers drowned out the hard wind. Whooping and shouting and all forms of verbal celebration caused a deafening moment that spurred on her all consuming desire to get the bloody Snitch.

 _Almost -_

Ginny felt the rapid beating of the delicate silver wings just a split second before her fingers wrapped around the Snitch and pulled it into her palm, grasping it firmly.

 _Got it_

She clutched the still moving orb in her hand and slowed down on her broom, turning toward the crowds with a wide, triumphant grin. But the Harpies fans were looking distraught. And the Arrows supporters were giving her a thumbs down or booing noticeably.

"Weasley caught the Snitch!" A commentators voice rang out enthusiastically but her stomach dropped. Ginny rotated again so that she could look at the flashing billboard. "But Quigley scored just moments before she got it! Arrows win! The Appleby Arrows win!"

Sure enough, the marquee blinked brightly as the final score appeared.

 _Arrows 210 - Harpies 200_

They had lost.

And Ginny knew, though ultimately she did not truly believe, that it was mostly her fault.

 **. . . . .**

Ginny did not wake up in any better mood the next morning. The loss of the match the night before hung heavy on her shoulders and she could not bring herself to show any emotion, though Harry was asleep and remained unaware of her continued sour mood.

A demeanor that did not improve with the last minute decision for a mandatory practice that had been scheduled for sunrise. Coach Beall promised the team of witches that they would have a penance to pay for their atrocious loss and he maintained his end of that statement by making them fly laps for nearly three hours straight. After which he temporarily glued Quaffles to their hands and had them run laps around the pitch, on foot, until he told them to stop. Maybe, he yelled at them as they panted heavily, if they knew what the weight of a Quaffle felt like they wouldn't be so scared to use it to score.

By noon, Ginny was exhausted to a level that she did not think possible. She did not even want to exert the energy it took to breathe. Somehow, after a very one sided team meeting wherein they were screamed at again for their lackluster playing, she was able to cast _Scourgify_ on herself before dressing and traveling home. She rather fancied a piping hot shower that left her skin pink and raw and her sore muscles relaxed.

Though her stomach loudly protested otherwise, Ginny did not bother with thoughts of figuring out something to eat for lunch. Her kitchen looked as spotless and inviting as ever but she did not wish to work out her self inflicted frustrations with a whisk and bowl. She would eat later, after she had had time to think while in the shower.

Not at all keen to read the markup of the last night's game, Ginny couldn't help but glance at the front page of the Daily Prophet as she walked by the kitchen table to retrieve a glass for water. The small sports section preview was on the bottom right corner and she could just make out the word _Harpies_ in bold lettering. Next to the line about turning to page seven for more, the miniaturized moving picture was big enough for Ginny to see a repeated black and white clip of Griffiths getting knocked off her broom by a Bludger.

Unable to stop herself, she set her glass of ice cold water on the table and picked up the copy of the Prophet. Paragraphs and pictures moved at random and she had to tilt the thick paper to one side to follow the twirling words of an abbreviated article about the Quidditch World Cup qualifiers. Ginny glanced to the top to see who it was that had written such a bias little blurp against the English team when her eyes caught on the tightly typed words just below the bolded Daily Prophet heading.

 _20 September 2001_

It was Thursday already.

And she had a meeting with Draco Malfoy in less than two hours.

Ginny swore loudly.

Just when she thought these twenty four hours couldn't get any worse, they did.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **A/N:** Thank you thank you for reading! It was a slow progression but now things are going to speed up. Buckle up kiddos, you're about to see a lot more of Draco.


	10. A Business Agreement

**20 September 2001**

Hogsmeade Village was quite magical in the early morning hours. Before customers arrived to shop and before the residents woke to start their days. When the slight fog was still hovering near the ground and the regular noises of the numerous comings and goings were quieted by inactivity. The Wizarding settlement was peaceful and quaint, absolutely unassuming in its simplicity.

A factor that Draco greatly appreciated when he arrived to the Hogsmeade station just after seven o'clock on that almost chilly Thursday morning.

There wasn't anyone lingering nearby to force him to talk when he was in no mood to chat. No one passed him on the short path into the village and paused to stare or noticeably point him out. It was just the birds chirping and the other business owners opening up for the day.

As the strengthening beams of sunlight broke through the clouds and illuminated the storefronts, Draco vaguely smiled at the smells of the early morning - the doughy freshness of bread, the crisp burn of meat recently put on the smoker, the sharpness of herbs newly picked, the natural scent of the forests and looming mountains. It was enough to make him hungrier than he already was and appreciative of his choice in business location. Luckily his destination came into view as he strode underneath the archway into the village, and his pace quickened as he almost tasted the food in his mouth already.

The Magically Delicious bakery had opened up almost across the street from the Three Broomsticks but their similar wares did not seem to detract business from either. Every witch and wizard in Britain knew the Three Broomsticks as a pub and bar - eating or drinking, you could stop in for as long as you liked. But the Magically Delicious bakery was more of a cafe that offered several long cases of fresh breads, cookies, muffins, and any baked good you could dream up. Sandwiches were available on a day to day basis as well, though they fell far behind the orders for cakes and pastries.

Striding forward and grabbing the golden handle, Draco pulled open the ornate glass paneled door and stepped fully into the sugary and warm scents. All of the little round tables were empty and the display cases were just as bare, several trays with treats and breads waiting on the back counter to go out. Steam was rising up from kettles on the stove and a plate of something or other lay half frosted.

There was a scuffle from the back of pots and pans hitting the floor loudly and a woman cursed just before a pair of voices asked if everything was alright. The first witch responded affirmatively as the objects, surely, were magically put back in place. He heard her mutter to herself until she came through the doorway and noticed him standing on the other side of the counter.

"Well good morning," the young witch said with more enthusiasm than Draco expected, but he gave her a slight returning smile, knowing she was often bubbly in the mornings.

"Morning Tessa," Draco greeted the owner of the bakery.

"I haven't seen you in here in ages, I hope you haven't been skipping out on breakfast again." Putting a hand on her hip and shaking a finger at him, Tessa took the moment to berate him before belatedly noticing the kettles.

Draco chuckled at her admonishing and watched as she waved her wand to extinguish the flames. Tessa was fairly short - though he was a tall bloke and that was hardly a way for him to judge other people's heights - with a sleek chestnut ponytail and nearly black, almond shaped eyes. She was born in the Western countryside but had attended school in America and was used to the ribbing about her adopted accent. He knew she was a few years older than him too but that was the limited personal information she had told him.

"If I ate your foods every day I'd be as big as a dragon's backside," Draco fired back goodnaturedly.

Tessa dismissed his statement, turning her back on him as a large mug flew into her waiting hand.

"There are spells and Charms for that these days. Besides -" she twirled a finger so that a spoon spun three times in the coffee that was now floating towards Draco. "You might as well enjoy it while you still have your taste buds."

Draco couldn't help the sharp bark of laughter.

"My taste buds? Where are they going?"

Tessa shrugged, a grin on her face to match her inane remark. "We all get old - it will catch up to you when you least expect it."

Draco shook his blonde head, brought his coffee to his lips, and hummed happily as he sipped.

"Perfect every time."

"It is my job to know my customer's preferences - especially my regulars," Tessa told him easily, moving to the waiting bread as a knife began slicing the loaves.

"And you are very good at your job," Draco commented, taking his mug with him as he sat down at the circular table nearest the register.

"Do you want your usual as well?" Tessa asked over her shoulder.

"Yes please," Draco answered. He spotted a copy of the Daily Prophet on top of the glass case and with a flick of his fingers, the paper was hovering across the shop to lay gently on his table.

"Want a side of bangers too?" Tessa questioned, a slight sizzling breaking the silence as she shut the sandwich press.

"Yes please," Draco repeated from behind the Prophet.

The pages crinkled as they turned themselves. Heavy aromas of heady sausage and melting cheese wafted over and he had to put the paper down as his mouth watered. Right on cue too, as the two small plates landed just in front of him, steam rising gently. On one plate was his usual - a thick sandwich of eggs, Applewood smoked bacon, and Gruyere cheese. On the other, three greasy sausage links sat on top of an American breakfast potato called hashbrowns.

"You do spoil me, Tessa," Draco said with an eager grin, picking up his fork and stabbing a sausage.

"When you're the only customer in here, you get special advantages," she responded, happy with his delight for her food, and turned back to the pastries.

Draco alternated between sipping his coffee, taking bites off the sandwich, and devouring bites of crispy hashbrowns or sausage. He had forgotten in his week-long absence from the Magically Delicious bakery just how much he enjoyed eating there. Granted, he had tried everything on the menu at least once and typically ordered the same thing, but the atmosphere and general feeling of warmth was enough to keep him coming back, even if just for a cup of coffee.

By the time both of his plates were empty, Tessa had filled one display case with cookies and brownies, glazed donuts and bright Cauldron cakes, macaroons of nearly every color, and puff pastries of any shape, flavor, and cheese variety. She was working on delicately placing a sliced loaf of garlic rosemary bread on a platter when her dark head snapped up at the sound of his chair scraping across the tiled floor.

"Done so soon?" She gave him a smirk. "You must have been famished."

Draco pushed his wooden chair back underneath the table and twirled a pair of long fingers to send his dirty plates and mug across the shop and into the soapy sink.

"I was," he agreed with the hint of a smile that grew wider as he glanced to the open doorway that lead into the back kitchen. "But moreso because I'd rather avoid seeing the twins if I can manage it."

Tessa too looked towards the back room and returned his grin. The twins, Lucy and Lana, were Tessa's cousins and her only two employees. Recent graduates from Ilvermorny, as was tradition for their family, the two young witches had taken an instant liking to Draco and the pair of them tended to distractedly fawn over him as only teenage girls could do. Flattering as it was, he tried to avoid their twittering and repeated compliments if he could help it.

"You better hurry up then - I had them preparing some more dough but even that cannot distract them for too long." Tessa wiped her flour dusted hands on a rag that was hanging off her belt and gestured to the pristine, stainless steel espresso machine. "Do you want another one to go?"

Not even needing to consider the question, Draco nodded his head and replied, "Yes please. Four shots with a splash of that sweet cream."

Tessa wordlessly shook her head that she understood him but turned to glance at the door as the golden bell tinkled the arrival of an elderly couple.

"Good morning," she brightly greeted the witch and wizard, and Draco stepped out of the way as the pair approached the counter, their wrinkled eyes focused on the menu board hanging on the back wall.

"Do you have any questions?" Tessa asked the husband and wife a moment later, her gaze on them as she approached Draco at the far end of the counter and handed him a tall cup of steaming espresso. The woman mumbled something to the man that had him raise his bushy eyebrows in consideration and Draco used the stilted moment to slide two shiny Galleons across the polished wood to where Tessa's hands were folded on top of each other.

"Thank you," he told her, motioning to the money and holding up his fresh cup of coffee. A grin bloomed when she opened her mouth to protest the over compensating payment for her food, but Draco was already hurrying towards the door and waving absently over his shoulder.

The morning air was fresh and crisp as he stepped outside. Draco inhaled deeply as one hand fidgeted in his coat pocket, searching until his fingers touched on the stiff corner of a small cardboard box. His eyes scanned the glossy, sunlit storefronts and he methodically opened the pack, retrieved a cigarette, and returned it to his pocket without looking at what he was doing. Placing the white, spongy filter between his lips, he held up one hand and snapped his fingers so that a small burst of flame lit the end of the cigarette. Draco inhaled deeply once more, and this time, he relished the taste of the minty smoke that he exhaled.

He continued smoking the Muggle cigarette as he ambled up High Street. At some point after picking up the habit, Draco had taught himself a neat little trick that nearly always startled the shocked witches and wizards who stared at him still. All it took was a slight rubbing of his fingers on the filter when he brought it to his mouth and magically the smoke he then exhaled would turn a mirage of colors. Or just one color if he chose so.

There had been one evening when he and Blaise were out at some piss pot bar, and an old drunk had accosted them for no apparent reason. The wizard was off his rocker and three sheets to the wind, and Draco had wanted an excuse to try out his new Charm. Blaise still lost it when he was reminded of how high the old drunk had flown out of his seat when Draco had turned around and blown flaming red smoke in his face. The entire bar had uproariously laughed at the trick and the subsequent reaction, and since then, Draco had been using it at parties and as a means of scandalizing the more nosy passers-by in the streets.

Unsurprisingly, his espresso was still steaming hot as he took a careful sip and turned onto the nearly empty East Street. Taking one last drag of his cigarette and snapping his fingers to disappear the butt completely, Draco switched his coffee to the other hand as EM Enterprises blurred into existence just ahead of him. The sight of the black building still brought a chest warming, exuberant grin to his pale face and that moment was no different, his eyes drinking in every detail as he approached the front door.

It opened without prompting so that he easily strode inside. The lights flickered to life at his appearance and Draco surveyed the storefront in the ensuing silence of the door shutting. Everything sat quietly in its respective places, the shadows creating a more sinister feeling than necessary. In the far back corner was a set of stairs that were almost imperceptible to the unknowing eye. They led to a second floor that was nearly empty save for a gigantic wardrobe that Draco used as a secondary closet for the occasions that his work became messy. He was also mindful to work on the more dangerous objects upstairs in a sort of bare containment room that he had created on the off chance that his shop assistant ventured curiously close.

Remembering that Astoria would not be in until nine o'clock, and that it was unlikely that a customer would come in before that, he thought about what he could tinker with and what needed his direct attention.

Draco removed his coat as he weaved around the various tables displaying odds and ends for sale. He smoothly rounded the long counter with the intent of going straight to his office but he caught sight of the appointment journal laying open and paused to make sure his meeting with a Mister Pelergin was still scheduled for the following morning. Nodding agreeably to himself as he saw the strangers name scrawled next to _10:00am_ for the next day, Draco had to look twice when he glanced a name written in small print for that very afternoon.

 _G. Weasley_

Fuck.

He had almost completely forgotten that the female ginger was coming to see him in a few short hours. It had been all that he could think about after she had left last week - why he should take her appointment and what she could possibly need him for. But after the headache that was Sunday dinner at Malfoy Manor, Draco did all he could to focus on work while ignoring the echoes of Lucius's tauntings.

He seemed to have done too well on that front though because he had gone three full days without his compulsory ire for the Weasleys raising his blood pressure.

"Fuck," Draco said aloud this time. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Grunting loudly to the empty room, he glared at the calendar before flipping it shut and turning around to finally enter his office. There was no respite to be found in the cavernous room though as his focus was shifty at best. The minutes slowly ticked by as Draco did little more than watch the clock and pace. He had the thought that the four shots of espresso were only fueling the vast amounts of energy he had now but he could not fault the caffeine for the sharpness he also felt.

By the time Astoria Apparated in to work at exactly nine o'clock, Draco was fit to be tied. Clearly the coffee was doing its job as he launched into a rapid, one sided conversation about why she never should have encouraged Ginny Weasley to make an appointment. The younger witch merely smiled calmly and nodded appropriately during his tirade, her cloak floating in an opposite direction for the coat rack.

"Good morning to you too," Astoria finally replied when Draco had stopped talking long enough for her to assume she was allowed to speak.

Draco looked like a petulant child as his blonde head shook impatiently at his latest question. "What should I do about Weasley?"

"What's there to do?" Astoria asked, moving around the end of the counter and doing her best to appear casual as Draco followed her. "Should I make a welcome banner for her?" The sarcasm was unmistakable though her voice trembled slightly.

Draco rolled his eyes at her profile as Astoria diligently leafed through the business's journal and calendar.

"What if she brings Potter?" He waited a long pause to see if she would immediately assure him that the Chosen Asshole was not going to be walking through that door later. When she did not, he added in a most serious tone - "Are you prepared to help me dispose of one, possibly two, bodies because things became too confrontational with that idiot?"

The sincere question in his words drew her gaze from the handwritten pages. Astoria could barely contain her snort of laughter when she saw a glimpse of honest concern on Draco's handsome face. It was sweet though, seeing firsthand how much he valued his own business and the worry he had for possible threats to it.

"What could he do? We are doing nothing illegal here and he would have a hard time finding proof of anything similar. All he would end up doing is letting his temper and his childhood grudges make him the lesser wizard." Astoria looked at him pointedly, with an eyebrow arched, and Draco felt as if he was being berated by his mother. "Is that what you want, to stoop to his level, to not show him that you have grown up into a mature adult?"

"No," Draco said begrudgingly after a long moment wherein he opened and closed his mouth several times, almost rattling off a snippy response or a smart remark. "But -"

"But what?" Astoria rhetorically asked, anger seeming to leak into her words as she grew frustrated with his sudden insecurities. "Ginny Weasley is very unlikely to bring Potter with her. And if she does, you can promptly show him the door and make him wait outside."

"Yes but -"

"No buts - you have nothing to worry about. You are just working yourself up because you have yet to have direct contact with Potter or any of his lackies since the end of the War." Astoria was on a roll and Draco quickly wondered what had already happened that morning to have her in such a mood. That thought disappeared though as she pointed a finger at him and gave an expression reminiscent of McGonagall. "Whatever happened prior to four years ago has no bearing on the man you are today. Harry Potter has no idea of the wizard you are now and he certainly has no authority in any capacity to tell you whether you are or are not a good person. He is the one who should be worried about coming across your path - not the other way around."

Draco spluttered. Somewhere in her rant, his anger had risen to match hers. And though he knew she meant no ill intent with her bald speech, he took haughty offense to the way she said it.

"You think I'm afraid of Potter?" Draco said angrily. "Do you think that now that he's an Auror I should fear him?" He scoffed, the swelling of emotion gone from his chest though he kept on with his two Knuts. "I have never - not once in my life - have I ever felt any sort of fear for _Harry Potter_. He is a prat who is always in the right place at the right time. Nothing more than luck has made him into the celebrity that he is today."

Astoria met his glare with her own and they had a stare down for a long minute. Then she said, through gritted teeth -

"I only meant that you do not need to belittle yourself in thinking that you would have to impress upon him that you are not like your parents anymore."

"Of course not," Draco answered thickly, pride unable to let him apologize for taking his shock of nerves out on her. "It is a waste of time to expend the energy on him."

Astoria did not respond, but her flat expression conveyed her displeasure with his rudeness. Still, he could not back down. He would not say he was sorry - it was how he had felt in that moment and he would not apologize for his questioning of her.

"I'll be in my office if you need me," Draco told her without any prompting, nodding once, and turning around to walk into the back room, shutting the door as he went.

Still lying in the middle of his desk was a large envelope from Theodore Nott. He eyed the package and its contents as if they were the source of his sore mood. That was another puzzle in and of itself, something that he didn't think he would have the time for just yet. Not if a Weasley was voluntarily coming to his shop.

He had bigger things to ponder than the aspiring projects of old friends if he had that name on the docket for the day.

Draco paced up and down the length of the room for the better part of an hour. His hands would fold behind his back only to come free when he turned around to walk in the opposite direction, gesturing as if he were talking to someone other than himself. His arms would then angle themselves for his hands to clasp against the small of his back again, the routine starting over. It was not until he paused to have the water jug fill a glass for him that a moving picture for an article in the Daily Prophet about the Quidditch World Cup caught his eye.

The host country had been announced the previous night and the Wizard journalist who had written the article went to great lengths to enhance the beautiful locations of Australia instead of its scorching weather.

It was enough of a distraction that Draco took the Prophet and his glass of icy water to the plush couch and sat down. If he had been adverse to any country he had visited, it had been Australia. He had thoroughly enjoyed the sights and food and people, but the extreme wildlife was more than he could handle. He was all for magical creatures but finding a scorpion in his shoe the size of his fist was not an experience he wished to repeat.

As he read about the new Vice Chair for the Magical Committee for International Horticulture and Gardening and an upcoming gala for a some charity event or another, his mind drifted away from work and into the social and political scenes of the British Wizarding World. He took notice of the articles that Lucius would find intriguing and he smiled smally whenever he came across an advertisement or announcement that he thought Narcissa would enjoy. A small paragraph about two underage wizards being reprimanded for sneaking into a Muggle girl's birthday party caused him to chuckle and think of Blaise. Becoming engrossed in the newspaper was the exact diversion Draco needed to push those lingering thoughts of Ginny Weasley to the back of his mind.

It was not until Astoria knocked on his office door and gently opened it that Draco looked up at the clock. Half noon. He had been reading the Prophet from cover to cover for nearly two hours.

"Do you want lunch?" She asked lightly, for all intents and purposes seeming like she had moved past their spat from earlier.

"What are you getting?" Draco asked, folding the Prophet and putting it down on the couch next to him.

Astoria shrugged, one hand still on the door knob. "Something from the Three Broomsticks."

"Are you bringing it back here?"

"I can."

Draco considered her for a moment before reaching into his pocket and producing three shiny Galleons.

"Get me a roasted chicken, extra mashed. Please."

Astoria nodded and moved across the short space to take the money he was offering her.

"Anything else?" She asked once she had stowed the coins away.

Draco grinned unprompted, his mind jumping to the various pastries from Magically Delicious that he could request.

"That's all," he said easily and Astoria gave him a once over as if to visibly check that he was alright. His grin had turned maniacal, thoughts of sweets and cakes making him extraordinarily giddy. Maybe he would send an owl to Tessa and have her send something to his house for when he got home later.

"Alright," Astoria said, striding from the room and shutting the door behind her. Moments later he heard the front door open and close.

Getting to his feet with the ill remembrance of the meeting he was not looking forward to that afternoon, Draco wandered in circles around the three large tables in his office. Odds and ends, items and books caught his eye as he walked. Though nothing jumped out at him as an immediate job to complete, his fingers lightly traced the outline of a glass lidded box that was enchanted with fangs to bite anyone who wasn't the owner.

Picking it up, he pressed opposite corners of the box into the pads of his fingers and stared unseeing at his reflection in the glass.

He had heard mention of Weasley telling Astoria that she needed a house cleaned of Dark items. Could she mean the Burrow, the mismatched, teetering house her family lived in? A grimace contorted his face at the thought of entering a lion's den full of redheads. Surely the good and holy Weasleys would not have anything even remotely resembling a Dark artifact in their home.

But which house could she mean then?

As far as he knew, the flat that Weasley shared with Potter was almost brand new and highly unlikely to be a storage place for any Dark items that the glorified Auror was even less likely to have. There was a slight possibility that one of her brothers - he knew at least one of them worked in what was considered a dangerous profession - had unknowingly given her a gift of unmanageable proportions. But even that seemed unlikely given how thorough he assumed Potter was with any mysterious objects that came into his home.

There was one other place he knew he ought to consider…

Once more Astoria interrupted his silence, the sounds of the front door opening and closing giving him a moment to anticipate her coming into the office. Draco looked up expectantly as she appeared in the doorway, this time with a bulging bag floating before her.

"D'ou get everything alright?" He asked, not waiting for her answer as he stood up and walked towards his desk that now bore ample empty space for their food.

"Rosmerta was in a fit with the lunch crowd," Astoria began, waving her wand so that the contents of the bag removed themselves and hovered to the table. "She told me to send an owl ahead of time so she wouldn't be rushed to get the order together."

Draco made a noise that sounded like a sigh and a huff.

"Better you than me to go in there," he said vaguely. He still felt a twinge of shame at the memory of _Imperiusing_ the barmaid during his sixth year.

"Yes I do so enjoy being ogled and hollered at by drunk wizards at noon," Astoria responded sharply and Draco felt the distinct impression that maybe she wasn't over their spat from that morning.

"We'll send an owl next time and have it delivered," he stated simply as if that should solve the entire dilemma.

"That would be much quicker," Astoria conceded after a pregnant moment where the only sounds were their utensils clinking against the wooden table as they appeared magically.

Lunch was a quiet affair. So much so that, without looking, Draco twitched his fingers at a wireless radio on a nearby shelf to set it to life with a steady stream of music. A newer hit from the Weird Sisters gave noise to the room and they continued to eat, not a word said between them. The plates disappeared as quickly as they had appeared and the trash wrapped itself into a ball that floated to the trashcan of its own accord. Astoria stood and her chair magicked away too.

"Your appointment with Ms. Weasley is in one hour - would you like me to prepare an information sheet for you?"

Her hands clasped behind her back and she looked, for all purposes, like a model employee waiting for instruction. But Draco saw the tension in the line of her shoulders and the stiffness in her normally relaxed stance.

"Yes, thank you," he responded just as formally. "No need to rush though."

"Certainly," Astoria agreed, and with a curt nod, she left the office.

Draco cocked his blonde head at the closed door, his fingers steepling before him as his thick but short ponytail brushed his collar. Maybe he should talk to Astoria before Weasley arrived. Her - odd - behavior was out of character. Maybe it was time he acted like a good employer and held a staff meeting.

He snorted at that thought and rose to his feet on legs that were stiffer than they ought to be. Joints creaked and cracked as he stretched his arms and twisted his head from side to side. Perhaps one day soon he would acquire some exercise equipment for one of the empty rooms upstairs. Merlin knew his body needed the work outs.

Mind racing for any thought that wasn't about Weasley competed with long, pale fingers that itched to do something. His mercurial eyes were moving just as fast as they sought out anything for him to do while he waited for his afternoon appointment. A random book lying on the edge of a shelf instead of neatly shoved in line drew his attention. Picking it up and wondering when he had picked out _Trolls, Misgivings and Misconceptions_ last, Draco felt slightly irritated when he noticed that several other books were out of order.

Could nobody put anything back where they found it after they were done using it?

Frustrated but grateful for the distraction, Draco pulled several tomes from their mistaken places and stacked them in one arm. Though he was mindful to keep one eye on the clock, he was soon immersed in this new task and the slight giddiness he felt when organizing needed done.

 **D/G**

Why did her blasted fingers have to choose now to be so bloody uncooperative?

Ginny's hands were shaking enough that she had tried and failed four times to slid the button of her trousers into its corresponding hole. Huffing loudly and feeling the bottomless need to just _do something right_ , she gripped the knobby corners and slowly, methodically, pushed the button into place. After pulling a shirt on and sliding her arms into the sleeves of an inky black robe, Ginny scowled at nothing in particular and strode from the bedroom.

Of all days for her to have scheduled this bloody appointment with Draco bleeding Malfoy.

"Fucking! - Merlin -!" Ginny exclaimed loudly, kicking the offending table leg that she had hit her foot on in her anxious haste to check the doors before she left. A very frustrated scream escaped up her throat, though it came out only half as loud as she wished to express herself, and Ginny had to grip the rough edges of the kitchen table to control the anger that was ready to consume her.

The last thing that she wanted to do when the previous night's loss was still so fresh was to willingly go visit Malfoy. But she would rather cut off her thumbs than send an owl to cancel.

Pride was a silly thing.

After several long minutes of steady inhaling and exhaling, Ginny opened her tired eyes and squared her shoulders. One way or another, she was ready to do this damn thing. Glancing sideways, the clock told her it was already 2:23.

Time to get moving.

It was scarcely a minute later that her boots touched down on the sturdy platform at the Hogsmeade Station. Some heads turned to watched her walk off into the village, but most of the commuters didn't pay her any attention as they too bustled to or from the Apparation point.

The village was just as lively as ever and Ginny felt some of her anger slip away as she took in the familiar sights. The consistent swinging of the door into the Three Broomsticks, the curl of smoke coming off the chimney at Magically Delicious, the distant pink of Honeydukes, the faint glimmer of sunlight off the windows at Spintwitches Sporting Goods - it was all like a breath of fresh air and an equalizer for her mood.

Taking her time as she walked up High Street, Ginny paused to look in storefront windows and smiled at the passing witches and wizards who greeted her. It was all so familiar, and yet still like a Wizarding painting brought to life. Some things, she thought, never lost their sparkle.

Except the grin fell from her face as she came up to Zonko's. The once bright and vivacious store was locked up and a giant _SOLD!_ sign was plastered to t he front door.

Change, it seemed, was the only constant.

Ginny kept her eyes on the former joke shop and a frown on her freckled face as she mechanically moved with the flow of the street. The intersection of East Street refocused her attention and with a fleeting jolt of nerves, she turned left onto the less crowded avenue and walked past Scrivenshaft's. As the black building next to it came into focus, Ginny felt a wave of determination that quickened her steps and squared her shoulders.

Glancing at her watch as her hand reached for the silver handle, she noticed that she was right on time. Perfectly punctual. Ginny pulled the door open and stepped inside EM Enterprises.

 **G/D**

He heard the front door shut and something rolled over in his stomach. Was it 2:30 already? Draco laid the two books haphazardly back on the edge of a shelf and automatically began walking across his office.

Faintly he could hear Astoria greeting Ginny Weasley, though the latter's response was muffled. His hands twitched but Draco shook them at his sides, clenching them for good measure. The time for unease had gone. He just had to get through this appointment as quickly as possible and he could return to forgetting that the Weasleys even existed.

The door opened before him and like a showman making his grand entrance, Draco appeared behind the counter with the bright office light illuminating him.

"Well well," he drawled, and the smirk he wore combined with the sneering tone he used made him sound very much like his younger self. "If it isn't a Weasley visiting us once again."

"Good afternoon to you too, Malfoy," Ginny said with a too wide smile and a trace of sarcasm.

"Is it time for our appointment already?, Or did you come in looking for some shelter and clean water, or air maybe?"

His remark, if anything, turned her smile more genuine. Malfoy was nowhere near a friend but his upfront comment made her feel strangely at home. Ginny chalked it up to familiarity and pressed her palm to the edge of the counter, leaning forward as Astoria stared at the pair of them blankly.

"With all of the smugness surrounding you, I highly doubt there is any clean air in here."

"How could you smell it past the stench of not bathing that is coming off you?"

Ginny scoffed, appearing affronted as well as she could manage while a smirk threatened to break her indignant expression.

"That is the smell of sweat and hard work, Malfoy - something I'm not sure you would ever understand."

Draco crossed his arms across his chest so that the muscles in his forearms rippled as he clenched and unclenched his hands at the insides of his elbows. He was going for the snobbish persona that he thought she was expecting but in actuality, he was buzzing with excitement for the numerous possibilities to pester and annoy that the youngest Weasley presented.

"Well when you're as handsome as I am -" Draco unfurled his arms and his right hand gestured up and down to himself. "Sweating is hardly something to worry about. That's what good House elves are for. Though I'm sure Potter still has you do all of those chores for him."

Ginny arched an eyebrow, wondering when his insults could change and telling him as much.

"You know after all of these years, I would have thought you would have found something else to goad me about." She let a small tinkle of laughter bubble past her slightly parted lips. Her reaction did not irritate him as she anticipated but somehow his resulting smirk seemed to settle them fully into comfortable, antagonistic roles. "The bits about the poor, dirty Weasleys just don't hit so strongly anymore."

"Would you like me to go on then about how stupid your brother is and how he lucked into his job as an Auror because of Saint Potter?"

Draco raised a pale brow this time and he had the fleeting wonder for why he had ever thought this would go negatively. At the very least he was going to get some insults thrown at Weasley - at the very worst he had worried that she would be a know-it-all, but her tongue was sharper than he remembered.

Ginny seemed to seriously contemplate his offer but merely shrugged, letting her arm fall back to her side.

"I don't think we have the time for that." A grin played at the corners of her lips at the slight towards Ron, and she gave a moment's pause to let her dual implication set in before studiously adding, "Unless you would rather I reschedule our business appointment so that we can chat like old pals."

As the light caught the mischievous glimmer of challenge in her chocolate gaze, a realization hit Draco like a ton of bricks that wiped the smugness off his face.

They were flirting. Kind of.

Slight as it may be, without true malice and conviction behind their words just yet, he and Ginny Weasley were unconsciously flirting in its stead. It was a childish, 'I'll be mean to you because girls are icky', school yard flirting, but they were bantering nonetheless.

"I -" he began but the almost forgotten Astoria interjected, clearing her throat and taking a half step forward so that she was brushing the edge of the counter.

"You should begin your - meeting so that you're not late for your 3:30 appointment with the French diplomat."

Astoria did not look at him directly but kept her eyes focused on the edge of his collar, raising both eyebrows as if he should know what she was talking about. But Draco had not the faintest clue what other appointment she was referencing. Taking it in stride, he assumed that she was planting the idea that he had a schedule to maintain and not any extra time to waste on idle chat. He was grateful for her foresight and nodded agreeably, raising a hand as if to take something.

"Yes, mustn't have the Frenchman kept waiting. Do you have the parchment for Weasley here?"

Astoria extended her own hand and as if by magic, a creamy scroll appeared within her fingers so that she handed it off to Draco seamlessly.

"Thank you," he said automatically but the dark haired witch was already moving past him and around the end of the counter.

"I will be in the garden if you have need of me," Astoria told him breezily, only pausing to meet Ginny's gaze and nod once before she disappeared into the shadows. The clicking of an assumed back door was the only indication that she had indeed gone outside.

Draco coughed as if clearing his throat, the noise awkward in the stiff silence of their aloneness.

"We should get to it then," he said, not exactly enthusiastically. "If you'll just come into my office, we can have a sit down and discuss the reason for you darkening my doorstep today."

Ginny rolled her eyes but followed his instructions. The mood had shifted imperceptibly, enough that she noticed the sudden pep in Malfoy's stride that spoke of swagger and arrogance. She was suddenly irritated with him and this bloody meeting and her ignorance for thinking that this had been a good idea. No one would believe her if she told them this was where she had spent her afternoon, and it would certainly raise eyebrows if word caught wind and spread like _Fiendfyre_.

Draco was already sitting in a large, high backed leather chair that seemed to have wheels on it when she walked into the back room. He rotated to face Ginny and drank in the suppressed look of appreciation that flitted over her freckled face as she took in his office. He noticed her curious eyes stop on the odder objects visible from that far end of the room and squint as if to read the titles of the books along the walls.

"Sit down, Weasley," Draco told Ginny after he allowed her a long moment to admire his work space. "I don't have all afternoon to wait for you to tell me why you're here."

Ginny glanced sideways at him, half a glare narrowing her gaze and pursing her lips. A rounded leather chair moved itself out from underneath the nearest work table and nudged up against the back of her knees until Ginny acquiesced and sat down.

"I am in need for your services, Malfoy," she said as if she was talking to a child. "Why else would I be here?"

"Oh I don't know -" Draco started, sarcasm dripping from his words as he picked up a random quill and twirled it around. "Maybe you're looking for a reason to send your lovely fiancée out here to investigate me."

Ginny rolled her eyes so widely that she thought she might make herself dizzy. Why did it always come back to Harry with Malfoy?

Folding her arms across her middle and crossing one leg over the other, she pushed her shoulders back and stared flatly at the blonde wizard in front of her.

"Harry does not know I am here, nor does he know what I'm planning to do with your hired services."

A devious smirk blossomed across Draco's pale, handsome features and Ginny almost held her breath for the remark she had pretty much walked into.

"Woah there Weasley - you will have to buy me dinner before we talk about those services."

Ginny sighed as her lips quirked and her arms uncrossed so that she laid her forearms flat along the arms of the chair, her hands gripping the rounded ends and her knuckles turning white.

"I highly doubt that I am the first witch to tell you this, Malfoy, but I would not touch your naked body with a ten foot broom."

Draco smirked, mirroring her pursed lips and arched brow.

"Well that is a shame for you - I am quite the perfect specimen in my naked form."

He winked salaciously and nearly laughed at the disgusted expression that Ginny did not fail to hide this time.

"I think I'll leave that - endeavor to lesser witches."

"As you wish," Draco replied and he winked once more, just to see her squirm.

Rotating in his rolling chair so that he was sitting at his desk, he kept his body turned towards Ginny as he stared down at the blank information sheet. Draco absently spun the emerald quill between his fingers, his eyes dancing over the empty lines that would be filled in with the details of Weasley's desired services.

"Tell me what it is that you need then," he said bluntly, breaking the stilted silence that seemed to go on and on, and startling Ginny.

But she did not answer his demand. Instead Ginny pointedly glanced to the three wide tables that had collected Dark objects.

"Why did you open this place, Malfoy?" It was a question that she had been burning to ask. "Did you fancy yourself a bit like Borgin and Burkes, wanting to deal with substandard witches and wizards for the rest of your life? Did you want to make money off other people's things?"

The query did not rankle him as it might have previously. Draco did not think it a prying question and he was ready with the same response he had given his friends over a year ago. If he was to have a business relationship with any client, he expected the need to divulge his business's intentions at some point in the initial discussions.

"I am better than Borgin and Burkes. I employ discretion and privacy. I will take your Dark objects and remove the Curses so that they are usable items again. I can fix your broken objects and sell them for twice the value so that we both make a profit. Or I can take your Dark objects and make them -" Draco snapped his fingers, focusing her attention and concluding his speal. "Disappear. The options are yours to choose from."

"Can you remove objects that don't want to be removed?"

Draco crossed one leg with his ankle on his knee and leaned back with an elbow pressed into the arm of his large chair, looking the picture of comfort as he absently twirled his fingers in a noncommittal gesture.

"That would depend on the strength of the Charm in place but I have been known to work my magic on even the most stubborn items."

He smiled lazily but Ginny took on a thoughtful expression, considering what he was saying.

It might be worth the retainer fee he required just to see how long it would take to completely and totally rid Number Twelve of its Dark past. Coming from a pureblooded family and understanding the prominence that was involved with that simple fact, Ginny felt a twinge of guilt for wanting to get rid of the history that the Black family had instilled in Grimmauld Place. But she was also not going to permanently live there if Walburga Black was hanging across from the front door to scream at her every day.

"Would you do the work yourself or would you send someone else?" Ginny paused and at Draco's raised brows and silent question, she elaborated. "A colleague or an associate."

Draco shook his blonde head, his ponytail momentarily appearing as he grinned lazily.

"It is just I who does the dirty work around here."

Lines formed horizontally across her forehead and he had the feeling that she was trying not to appear impressed that he was a one-man operation. So to speak.

"And you're willing to travel?"

"It doesn't sound like this - thing is going to be coming to me, Weasley."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Obviously not - it's stuck to a wall."

"What is?" Draco asked, leaning forward and pressing an elbow into the knee that rested on top of the other.

"The portrait," Ginny answered vaguely, appearing nonplussed as she realized his attempt for information.

"A portrait of what?"

"A portrait of a very mean, very obnoxious witch that was left in the house that Harry inherited," she spit out, the words almost too fast for him to properly understand.

Draco gave a curious _hmm_ and narrowed his silver eyes as the corners of his lips quirked up.

"Now we're getting somewhere, Weasley."

Unable to contain the energy that had her foot lightly tapping on the rug, Ginny got to her feet and began pacing. Draco turned in his chair to watch the movements of her back, feeling satisfied that he had her rankled. But she had given him the last clues that he had been looking for - she had confirmed what he had already guessed at.

"Are you speaking of the house in London that my dear cousin Sirius Black left to Scarhead?"

Ginny froze minutely and it was enough for Draco to silently congratulate himself. It wasn't like that was a fact that he couldn't have found out by simply paying off the right person at the Ministry. Even his mother probably could have told him about that. But having it confirmed by a Weasley felt like his enemy was giving up a secret to him.

Though she couldn't really be his enemy if they were working together. Or he for her. Whichever.

"Yes," Ginny answered stiffly, and she moved along the aisle towards the far end of the room.

"And are you interested in my services merely for the opportunity to pawn my distant relatives junk off on me?"

Ginny moved around the corner of the third, far table and when Draco saw her face again, she was near enough to smirking that he thought she was expecting this avenue to come up in conversation.

"Do you not think your mother would be more than willing to accept priceless Black family heirlooms?"

He contemplated that question. He would have to actually inspect the items to give a definitive yes but Draco was almost certain that Narcissa would in fact adopt any artifacts that were left from her once relatives. She and her sister Andromeda were two of the very few Blacks left and family possessions were hard to come by.

"Is that the only reason you sought out this appointment with me? Because you hoped I would do this job for a minimal fee _and_ remove certain things for free?"

Ginny was at the opposite corner of the room, one hand trailing absently along the edge of the table as she stared at him. Surely even her distance could not mistake the disdain in his words.

"Partially, yes," she said with less scruples than he anticipated. "But I also heard that you were the best and I cannot imagine that I would be able to find a more discrete service as it pertains to what the Black family may have left behind."

Unease should have stirred in his stomach at the implication of his relative's Dark belongings being found by a more Ministry trusting fool, but again Draco was intrigued by the notion that this Weasley would give him the option to handle it himself. Even if there was still an unseen angle that she was working.

"I see," he said shortly and his fingers steepled together after his elbows rested on the ends of the chair's arms.

Ginny walked slowly, moving between the third and second tables and coming out in the aisle so that she was directly facing Draco. She kept her unreadable eyes on him until she turned between the second and first table, and paced down that narrower aisle.

"And exactly how many items do you specifically need my services for?"

"Precisely?" She threw over a shoulder cheekily as she moved towards a bookcase instead of walking around the first table.

"A roundabout number, Weasley," Draco said, patience running thin in his words.

"Well - there's the portrait, and a tapestry of the family tree - " He didn't have to see her expression to know that she was relishing in the long seconds it took for her to pretend to pause and consider what other objects would require his attention. But the second item she oh so casually mentioned was enough to seal the deal for him. A Black family tapestry would be an excellent Christmas present for Narcissa. "And several - sentimental items that were left behind."

Pale eyebrows arched. Ginny paced away from the shelves on the far wall and lazily approached the chair she had been sitting in minutes ago. She sat down and crossed one leg over the other, fixing Draco with a blank, waiting stare.

One minute passed.

Two minutes.

This felt like a test to Ginny. Break eye contact and his services would not be available to her.

Four minutes.

After a full six minutes of silence grudgingly elapsed, Draco turned to fully face his desk and returned the tip of the quill to the parchment. The scribbling of the writing instrument mixed with the faint sounds of their breathing as he took several more minutes to fill in the blank lines on the business agreement.

"Will you do it then?" Ginny asked when it seemed like the quiet would endlessly continue.

Without looking up or pausing the movement of the quill, Draco responded, sounding heavily like Severus Snape with his condescending tone.

"I would have thought that since I haven't tossed you out onto the street yet that you would have realized that I was willing to take on your case."

Ginny made no immediate retort, holding her tongue with her remark on how hot and cold his temperament ran. Following his lead had gotten her this far, if she wanted to cleanse Grimmauld Place she had to continue this strategy. Watching as he shuffled the parchment he was writing on underneath a leather bound notebook, she waited impatiently with her lips pursed tightly together.

"I can meet with you again in two weeks - on October 4th," Draco told her almost suddenly, glancing sideways with an expectant countenance as if he were eager to be done with this particular meeting.

"What time is available in your busy schedule, Malfoy?" Ginny said, acid leaking into her tone despite the small turn of a smile on her lips.

He glanced back down at what she realized was the business calendar, and looked back up with raised brows that tried and failed to look inquisitory.

"One in the afternoon?"

"That won't foul up any one of your numerous lunch dates?"

Draco barked a laugh. "Business before pleasure, Weasley."

Her immediate look of disgust and slight question brought a smirk to his handsome features. It vanished as quickly as it came and Ginny smoothed her expression into tolerable agreement.

"One o'clock will work just fine."

"Good," Draco crisply replied and returned his attention to the parchment. He scrawled a few more things, rotated, and handed the quill out to her as he gestured to the paper. "If you'll just sign at the bottom here - we can each go on with the rest of our days."

Ginny looked skeptical but took the quill he offered.

"Isn't this a bit - Muggle for you?" She asked, her eyes rapidly moving from his gaze to the parchment and back. At the slight tilt of his head in silent question, Ginny elaborated. "I would think that you would employ a binding Charm when you signed agreements with clients."

Draco smiled tightly, wondering when the shoe had switched to the other foot.

"That is an Enchanted quill," he nodded to the writing utensil in her hand but Ginny did not look away from him. "You will find it quite difficult to renege on payment or any other aspect of our contract once you have signed with it."

Now she did glance at the seemingly innocuous quill, twirling it between her fingers before gripping it more firmly.

"Give it here then, Malfoy," Ginny said and indicated the parchment still sitting in front of Draco on the desk. "I'm not signing anything without reading it first."

He half nodded at her as if to say _touche_ and sent the yellowed paper floating through the air so that it stopped in front of her. Ginny's freckled face disappeared behind the parchment as she read every detail and Draco held back the heavy sigh that should have followed the rolling of his eyes.

"This is all well and good, Malfoy," Ginny said a moment later, her red hair swishing along her shoulders as she angled her head to see around the floating parchment. "But you have yet to ask me the physical address. Should that not be -"

"Keep reading, Weasley," Draco interrupted her, momentarily thinking about propping his feet up on the end of his desk. "There is a line for you to write it down."

Ginny vanished behind the parchment again and he heard the quill tip scratching across the paper. In all honesty, he had expected more attitude out of this Weasley, more of the fiery disposition that she displayed on the Quidditch pitch, but Draco also wasn't going to complain about a business meeting going smoothly. Especially this meeting.

"Here," Ginny told him, sending the parchment and quill floating back to him with a twist of her hand. Draco apprehended the feathered pen as the now signed paper landed on his desk, gently bounced once, then neatly rolled in on itself. "Your contract is signed and ready."

"That wasn't so hard, was it, Weasley?" Draco rhetorically said, placing the quill on top of the closed calendar, and brushing imaginary lint from his trousers as he stood up.

"So long as you don't count the time I had to spend alone with you," Ginny replied smartly, getting to her feet as well, and smiling sweetly.

"Unless I'm mistaken, and you intend to leave me to my work at your home - I very much think we will be spending several hours alone together in the near future." His right brow quirked and Draco shoved his hands into his pants pockets as he leaned backwards and seemed to sway in place.

"Don't remind me, Malfoy," Ginny told him with a slight eye roll.

He grinned. Working with Weasley was going to be quite interesting.

She turned to walk towards the door but Draco removed a hand and held it out to her. Ginny looked at it as if it were covered in slime before glancing up at him skeptically.

He wore a thin lipped smile that appeared a touch too friendly for their shared history.

Tentatively, she raised a freckled hand and slid it inside his, almost apprehensive at the firmness of his handshake.

"I look forward to our next meeting," Draco said, squeezing Ginny's fingers.

"That makes one of us," she told him and released his hand, making a show of wiping her palm along her robes as if it were now dirty.

"If that's all?..." Ginny leadingly asked, but she was already taking several steps towards the door and the rest of her afternoon.

"Until next time," Draco said mysteriously, and he gave her a casual wink as she exasperatedly sighed and slammed the door behind her on her way out of his office.

 **.**

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 **A/N:** Sorry for the wait! But I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Life has been somewhat crazy the last few weeks and some days my head just wasn't in the space to write. But I have persevered and finished it so that the bulk of the story can progress. Please leave me a review if you liked it, or don't be afraid to send me a message if reviews are not your style. I'm looking forward to the next chapter and I hope you are too!


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